Don't Look Back
by perfectpotterhead
Summary: "Ian," I whisper. "PRIMROSE!" he shouts, and he wraps me up in his arms and I kiss him and he kisses me and I run a hand through his hair and his hands clasp around my waist, bringing us closer together, and our mouths work perfectly together.
1. Chapter 1

_Don't Look Back—Chapter 1_

**A/N: Hello, all! Okay, I'm extremely excited about this story.**

**IT'S THE SEQUEL TO PANEM'S DARLING!**

**I gave you some time to think of what'd happen and what's going to go on. So, here YOU GO! I'M SUPER, SUPER EXICTED! Enjoy Ch. 1!**

Chapter 1—It's Been Two Years

Ian's POV

"So, how's school?" I say into the mouthpiece, staring at the primroses that adorn my dresser. Diana, the little girl who I met a few days ago, is outside playing with a little dog. "Is it okay?"

Primrose sighs, yawns (it's 4:30 in the morning), and begins: "I'm sorry, Ian, but it's been miserable. Emily Line keeps sobbing about you. And she's not even really crying. It's all for show. She keeps moaning 'Not Ian, not Ian' and 'IT SHOULD'VE BEEN ME' or something along those lines. It's just dreadful. I can't concentrate on anything because she and I have the same schedule and she sits near me in all my classes. She's always whispering to me 'Oh, it must be _horrible_ for you, him playing you like that. I'm so sorry he loved me the _whole entire_ time'. How did you put up with her? Why won't she just freaking let it go?"

I groan and put my hand over my eyes. "Crap, she's grown into such a wart since I left. It's been two years; she should be over it."

"She likes to stretch the truth."

I laugh. So does Primrose.

It's been two years since I left District 12. Primrose Everdeen, Katniss Everdeen's sister, and I won the 75th Hunger Games that consisted of the victor's families. And I love Primrose with my whole heart and soul. After we won, I was relocated to District 10. Peeta Mellark, Katniss Everdeen's boyfriend, sent us secret clues. But the Capitol figured it out and blamed it on me, so I got moved. Peeta calls me everyday on the high-tech phones I stole, begging for forgiveness, crying, screaming and cursing the Capitol. I always tell him I'd rather it be me than him.

Is that true? Do I really wish that? I miss Primrose so much it's like swimming across the Atlantic Ocean. She's on the other side. She's calling for me, her eyes the color of the sky and the water. I swim frantically, so frantically that I set myself back. I am the one keeping myself from her. But there are also other obstacles—the Capitol being crashing waves, District 10's constantly-guarded thirty foot brick wall being the howling wind, and the distance is the pounding rain. I'll never make it by myself.

"So, how's 10?" she asks, her voice slightly cracking.

"It's good. You were right; there are beautiful flowers. This kid sold me a box of pr—of them. They're really nice. The girl's name is Diana and I gave her my whole moneybag."

_"Ian!"_ she exclaims. For a moment, I think she's slammed the phone down, but it's just her, squealing excitedly on the other end. "That's _wonderful!_ Absolutely _brilliant!_ Oh, my god, that's the _sweetest_ thing ever! I'm kissing you over the phone, you know!"

I laugh. Primrose is the best.

"Yeah, well, her family was in trouble, no work, broken back. She was selling the flowers dirt cheap. I felt really awful."

"Oh, my god, it sounds worse than 12…" I realize she's trying hard to not cry.

"Primrose, don't cry. It's okay. They've got money now that I'm here."

She takes a breath that I hear over the phone. "It's okay. I'm okay. It's okay. Okay." I hear her breathing shudder and then relax. "So it really is good?"

"No. It's awful without you and Peeta and Katniss and Haymitch and Effie and Lauren and Logan. Absolutely horrifying, Primrose, I can't take it. I need you here."

She really does start crying now. "I need y-you too, Ian. I c-can't stand it. I love you I love you I l-love you." And her voice, creaking and heaving, comforts me.

_Someone still loves me. Someone still cares about me. Someone I love and care about. Thank god. Thank the lord. Thank you thank you thank you so much._

"Primrose, don't cry. It's okay. I'm okay." I pause, trying to find something to break the silence that includes Primrose's non-stifled sobs and my loud, really loud breaths.

"I—I need to tell you something," she starts, obviously wiping away tears. "I'm come—"

There's a knock on my door. "I better go," I whisper. "Call me tomorrow."

"I can't. We're—we're leaving for vacation, to—to 4. So, um, I won't be able to call for awhile." She's having trouble stringing words together, I think. I feel my stomach sink.

"Okay. Wait, hang on. If you can go to 4, why can't you come here?" I say it excitedly, anxiously. "Really though Primrose, why not?!"

"We can only go to districts with, uh, high-security. Oh, god, Katniss is home. I gotta go. Bye. I love you times a million."

I only have time to say "I love you too" before she hangs up.

She's keeping something from me.

But what?

Primrose's POV

I can't stand not telling Ian.

It's driving me inward. Today I almost let it out. I can't tell him or he'll yell at me and start crying and tell me not to. But I've reached the end of my road. I can't do this anymore. I just want to be happy. And this is the only way to be happy. To do _this_ would mean eternal happiness. And I really want that. Knowing he and I will somehow, someway, always be together. Even if I leave for awhile and he's worried sick. In the end he'll have to thank me.

And as my eyes well up with tears, I want to dial and tell him.

But he loves me. So I can't.

He'd fear and fret and start screaming at me "DON'T DO IT! IT'S TOO MUCH PRIMROSE!"

However it's the only way to see him again.

And as I feel the overwhelming pain wash over me knowing he's not with me I nearly black out.

"KATNISS!" I screech, clamping my sweaty palms over my eyes.

She comes running in, braid swishing madly behind her. "What? What's wrong? Prim is it Ian again? Oh god, I'm so sorry." Katniss pulls me into a hug. I rock back and forth in her lap, like I used to late at night after my nightmares. "You know it'll all be okay. It's going to be okay. We'll find a way to get him back home."

_Tell her tell her just tell her that you have to it's for the best tell her not to worry that it'll be fine_

"That—that'll take—t-take—"

I start to sob. Every time he calls me I manage to keep myself calm and collected. But after we hang up remembering his voice just BAM! cracks me in half. And suddenly I'm crying hysterically like Emily Line every day at school.

_They _

_ Call me _

_ Insane, demented, upset_

_ Torn apart inside_

_ And I must say_

_ That they _

_ Are close_

_ Near perfect description, in fact_

_ But in_

_ Instead_

_ I'll tell_

_ Them that_

_ I'm fine, I'm_

_ Fine._

I close my eyes. "And when I run over the, the sun, I'll yell, yell out, so loud, 'How is, your life, full of pain, and strife, that's nice, I'd like, to know,'" I whisper, smiling slightly.

And maybe I can be okay.

There's shouting from downstairs. Muffled words, crystal clear curses, pounding of fists, my mother and Katniss arguing. I slip to the ground and sneak to the staircase.

"—lost all interest, always shut up in her room, Jesus Christ, Mother, she's what you were!"

"Young lady," Mother says dangerously. "Primrose is not becoming depressed. She's coping, for God's sake. And don't swear anymore, please. It's not of becoming a lady."

"I don't want to be a lady! I want to be a freaking hunter. I've got no time to deal with a lump of misery. She's got to grow up. Childhood crushes don't last, Mom. She's gotta forget him and move on."

"Katniss—Joanne—Everdeen." Mother's voice becomes even quieter, more deadly. "You do _not, in ANY way, _become insensitive to your poor sister's feelings. Now, go outside and just—just go."

Katniss swears loudly. "Fine then. Shut me out. Again. As usual. You are so _hypocritical!_" And she storms out the door.

I step into the light just as my mother throws down her dishrag. "Oh, hello Primrose; you've been up in your room the whole time?"

"Um…yes. So, I need to tell you something."

"Yes, dear?" Her eyes hug me a little. I smile sadly.

"I'm going to—"

—End of Chapter 1—


	2. Chapter 2

_Don't Look Back—Chapter 2_

**A/N: Two reviews in the first hour of posting **_**DLB**_**. My readers are the best in the whole wide world. Love you all, and enjoy ch. 2! **

Chapter 2—Schemes

Prim's POV

"I need to tell you something—"

"Dear, I need to tell _you_ something." My mother's face looks tired, lined. She looks older than she really is. "You've been acting differently. And I'd quite like to know why."

_Are you stupid? The great love of my life moved to 10!_

But instead I phrase it this way: "I guess it's just the aftermath of Ian moving away…"

"Oh, sweetie. I'm so sorry about that. But you must realize that he's safe, well fed, and cared for. He's in good—well, okay—hands. And he's going to live. We're working on a plan to get him out." But her eyes tell me that this is a lie, they're not trying. They've accepted the fact that Ian's not coming back.

_So why can't I?_

"Mother, don't lie to me. I know they're just doing something about the Games, and they want them over. If one more boy has to suffer then he will. It's just—why does that boy have to be Ian?"

"Oh, god. Primrose, I'm just…it was…luck."

_"Luck?! Luck?!"_

"There are many types of luck," my mother says simply. "Good and bad, and none at all. Ian was struck with awful chances. But he was also awarded with a slight amount of good luck—shelter, food, and care in exchange for leaving his home and his loved ones. And it's awful, absolutely revolting, but we can't do anything about it now. He's in 10, fine. He's healthy."

"Healthy. Yes, Mother, that makes me feel so much better. I need him, Mother. We're both sick, both drunk with the alcohol we call love. And we're not healthy. Every day I cry myself to sleep. Every night he tells me he hardly rests at all. And I'm sorry, Mother, but I feel like the whole world is against me."

She sighs. "You and Ian—you're too young, Primrose. You're fifteen. Much too young, darling. I'm sorry. But it's best if you forget him anyway."

I can hardly even hear her anymore. "Mother. Katniss and Peeta. Are you kidding me?! They were only one year older than I!"

"But, sweetie, Katniss was always—I mean, she was so—"

"You are not saying that she is more mature than I am." I have to clench my fist to keep from lashing out. "I have been through so much more than she. I lost him. I loved him. And I watched my best friends—_friends, not friend_—in that arena die. I watched Quinn die. Gregg die. Even Eleanor die. I _killed_ Gregg, for God's sake. And here you are, stating that she's more mature."

My mother sighs. I want to hit her, slap her so hard. _"Mother, listen to me! I LOVE him! WHY can't you SEE that? Are you BLIND? Did you NOT see us IN THE ARENA?!" _I yell, stepping closer, brushing my hair out of my eyes. My body is calm but my voice is not.

_Who have you become?_

The first tear rolls down my cheek. My mother begins to cry as well.

"Oh, Primrose, oh Primrose, Primrose, Primrose," she says. "I'm so sorry, dear. I wasn't—aware—of the strength of—of—oh, sweetie…"

"Don't. It's my fault. I'm going to my room." I wipe my eyes. It seems like that's all I ever do anymore. But soon, I'll be happy again. Soon I'll be able to smile and run and be with Ian, once he finds me…

I smile at my mother and hug her, two things I haven't done in an eternity. She smiles back and kisses my forehead. "I'm glad to see you happier. Take some toast and eggs, you look like you're about to drop."

She hands me a plate loaded with toast and scrambled eggs. They look delicious. I feel lighter, after realizing that this scheme might actually work…but how can I do it without him knowing? He'd probably actually skin me alive if he found out what I'm going to do…

As I eat generously, gazing out the window, I think of Quinn. Quinn, my ally in the Games, a Career in District 4, chose me when she already had an ally. Quinn, so breathtakingly beautiful, so funny, so sweet. She was ready to win, but she saved me from a sniper's arrow. And I remember the poem I made up for her and her alone.

_A halo of fire and gold_

_Wings of wind and laughter_

_ Racing barefoot_

_ Across_

_ The sky_

_ Flying like a dove of heat_

_ Skimming the _

_ Clouds that_

_ Puff so high_

_ In the great_

_ Blue_

_ Sky_

I press my palm to the window. It's almost nine o'clock now. Is Ian up? What time is it where he is?

I'm going to call him. I pick up the phone and dial the special "code" that's Ian's. I have to be very careful not to dial Capitol services, since these are Capitol phones.

Ian and I each have different "codes" instead of phone numbers. His is 1224 and mine is 4221, which is Ian's backwards to keep it simple. The codes are harder to crack than phone numbers, and much less complicated. All we did was program the phones to recognize the codes. The Capitol numbers can still be dialed, which stinks. We have to be very cautious not to accidentally dial their numbers.

"1…2…2…4…"

Five rings before he picks up. That's our signal for "I'm okay". Two rings means "I'm upset", one ring "It's serious", and three rings is the distress signal. I always feel a little jolt of fear when the third ring sounds. I'm always dreading the day three rings will reach my ears without the fourth and fifth following it…

"Primrose, you called me an hour ago." He sounds happy nonetheless. I sigh in relief.

"I know, I know. I just—I nearly attacked my mother, which would be my new personal low. I'm trying to cope by letting my emotions wander free, but Ian, it's not working!"

Ian sighs. "You can't let them _wander free_. That will just make them more intense. Try and contain them. Squash them so hard they can't rear back up to bite you in the face. You can do it. It's difficult, sure, but you can do it, since you're stronger than anyone I know."

"Thanks. Okay. But keeping them in check would be…"

"Next to impossible for someone like you, I know. But you have to try, okay? Please?"

It's my turn to sigh. "Alright, doofus, I'll try my best. But you've got to help me along, Reseda."

"That's fine by me, Everdeen." And then he laughs.

The nerve of him! Laughing at a time like this is near suicidal. It could be hazardous to his health.

"Ian. I really, really need to tell you something."

"Okay, Primrose, just go ahead. Is it really important?"

"No. I'm just calling to describe to you this incredibly interesting cloud that's shaped like President Snow's beard."

"Oh. Lovely."

"Seriously, doofus, it's important." I take a deep breath as he listens intently, our line buzzing. "I'm going to walk to 10, and I need your help to do it."

—End of Chapter 2—

**A/N: Sorry this one's kinda short. I have a basketball game today, wish me luck! **** Love you all! **


	3. Chapter 3

_Don't Look Back—Chapter 3_

**A/N: Hi guys! Okay, new character in this chapter—based off of one of my sweetest reviewers, TheHungerGamesMockingJay. Shoutout to that amazing girlie! I'm going to be leaving town for a week or so, so either this is going to be posted today or sometime around Thursday or Friday of next week. I'm sorry about this ****. Anyway, enjoy chapter 3! (I don't own One Direction's **_**Best Song Ever**_**.)**

Chapter 3—Decisions, Decisions…

Ian's POV

"WHAT?!"

Primrose sighs. "That's what I thought your reaction would be. I can't live like this any longer—chatting on the phone while you're probably off staring out a window, thinking _Oh, heck, what a lovely patch of grass, oh, doesn't it look like that big bird flying in the sky, next to the cloud that looks like Snow's beard that Primrose told me about, oh, how lovely_ or something along those lines! Don't you _see_? I'm so, so sick of Emily Line whispering awful things to me and running out of class crying, trying to get a reaction out of me. I'm sick of hanging out with girls who wear invisible crowns on their heads and trying to be stereotype. It's too hard, too messed up. Please, just let me do this."

"No. You can't. You can't just wander into 10 and live with me. It's impossible, Primrose, and it's incredibly dangerous and I love you too much…please, don't do it, I'm fine."

"Well, awesome for you. God, I do hope you love living the rest of your life in that grimy old house, watching what's-her-name play next door, giving all of your money to her."

I feel heat rush into my cheeks. "No means no, Primrose."

"You're not my father, Ian. Only I can decide. I'm not going to come _live _with you. I'm only fifteen, going on sixteen. I'm going to smuggle you out and you can live in Victor's Village. And we can make sure all the Peacekeepers swear to secrecy or Haymitch will organize a Hunger Games where all the Peacekeepers compete. He says that the audience would love it."

"Now, you listen and listen well, Primrose. How do you think the Peacekeepers will keep quiet with a District 10 escapee on the loose? They'll tell for sure, absolutely. They don't care about the 'Peacekeeping Games'. They will somehow let the Capitol know.

"I really do wish you could, Primrose, but it's so dangerous. The walk alone would take at least two weeks, possibly three, and even I don't know."

I can tell she's angry with me. _Did you really think that I would just let you come?_

"Ian, you don't understand! I need your help to do it! I can do it! And even if you won't help me you can't stop me from coming."

"Oh…"

"Think about it and call me back whenever. I swear I'll take your opinion into count. Please, Ian, just think—_we could be together again. _I love you."

She hangs up before I can take another breath.

Instantly I feel bad for not supporting her wholeheartedly, although I really just was trying to protect her. She can't come into 10 and "smuggle me out" without getting caught. This isn't getting house arrest for a week or a week off school. Oh, god no. This is whippings, getting thrown in prison for life, most likely the death sentence. It would be utter madness to attempt to come.

I flop back on the bed, exhaling. I also _want_ her to come. I need to see her again. She's right, I can't spend the rest of my life staring out windows and giving my money away. I can't spend forever watching Diana gawk over full moneybags, shiny coins and crisp bills. I can't just fade, my sanity as big as Snow's kindness streak. I need Primrose more than anything in the entire world. So what do I tell her?

A Brief Interlude of My Argument with Myself:

_You're not coming._

_ I miss you so much._

_ You can't come._

_ I wish you would._

_ Don't—come._

_ Come, please come!_

_ It's too big of a risk!_

_ Risks were made to be taken!_

_ No! N-O!_

_ Yes! Y-E-S!_

I decide to get my mind off things and go for a walk, one of three ways to entertain myself now.

**Ian's List of 3 Ways to Entertain Yourself in District 10**

** -Go for a walk.**

** -Talk to Diana.**

** -Call Primrose.**

As I climb down the stairs, I think of the exact color of Primrose's eyes. Not sky blue, but not the sea-green that Gregg's were. Her eyes were a mix of sapphire and forget-me-not. The right one had a rim of pale blue, almost white, ring around the pupil.

Her hair was the color of golden wheat and summer sand. Golden in the sunlight and almost auburn at night, it usually was pulled into two low ponytails trailing in front of her shoulders. Primrose had this one dark brown streak. "It's quite mystifying," she told me once, "because I have absolutely no idea where it came from. I just woke up with it one day."

And her voice…she's a hell of a singer. When she sang after Quinn's death…I nearly cried. Gregg _was_ crying. But when she's talking, her voice is as real and light as sunlight hitting waves. Her laugh was so _genuine_, so _natural_. Not preppy or high or fake like some girls' who try to laugh to impress. Primrose laughs to laugh, and that's the wonderful part.

_Maybe it's the way that she walked_

_ Straight into my heart and stole it_

_ Through the doors and past the guards_

_ Just like she already owned it_

I smile slightly as I remember all of her good qualities. That's been the one thing, aside from Diana, keeping me sane. Remembering Primrose makes it seem like she's almost here. Clinging onto any type of hope is essential in the wide world of loneliness.

_Said her name was Primrose_

_ And her daddy was in heaven_

_ Said I've got a good mouth (you got a good mouth)_

_ And she kissed me like she meant it_

It might seem messed up, but somehow I kind of _want_ to forget Primrose. I mean, once you've been cooped up in a house with your only company being a six-year-old girl who is kind of in awe of you, you start to think some strange things. But if I forgot Primrose, I wouldn't be in so much pain, so much agony right now.

Instantly I curse myself a million times. I can't believe myself. That's the most selfish, horrible, AWFUL thing I could ever say. I want to hurt myself for saying that, quite honestly.

My phone begins to ring. It's Primrose.

"Hello, love," I say softly.

"What's wrong?" she replies instantly.

"I just had the worst thought…um…"

She seems to be concerned, but she might just be annoyed. "Oh. What was it?"

I tell her. She sighs.

"I know, Ian. I've been thinking too, what if I just…oh, god no. I'm so selfish, Ian. Please, I'm really sorry. I wouldn't forget you for the world and the moon and all the stars in the sky. I wouldn't. I would choose you."

I remember asking her that in the arena.

_"Would you choose me? Would you spend the rest of your life with me over anyone else?"_

_ "I would."_

"No hesitation," I reply swiftly, and I hear her wonderful laugh in response. "So why did you call?"

"To see if you'd thought about it. I'm sorry," she adds hastily, hearing my slight snort. "But it's nerve-wracking, asking your boyfriend if you can come smuggle him out of a stupid district that the stupid Capitol is so stupidly fond of."

"The Capitol? Fond of 10? Nice joke. Most people here are skeletons." I sigh. "It's awful, really, seeing the kids starving and stuff. It's 12 times three. I mean, I saw little kids not getting enough to eat and things, but I didn't live in the Seam. I lived in the Centre, which was the nicest part of 12, remember?"

"Oh, yeah, I remember Katniss swearing revenge on every one of those 'self-indulgent hypocrites'."

"Shut up," I say, as she laughs again. "We did share."

"Um, not really, seeing as our best meal after our father died was two pieces of burnt bread."

"I don't want an argument, Primrose. I have thought about it, okay?"

I can hear her smile over the phone. She knows what I'm going to say.

"Come on over."

—End of Chapter 3—

**A/N: I recently got back home (I was out of town) and it's a snow day today! So I finished up the chapter! I hoped you like it! (Sorry, so sorry I couldn't write, my hotel didn't have a computer and I forgot my iPod charger :/ )**


	4. Chapter 4

_Don't Look Back—Chapter 4_

**A/N: Hello, lovely readers! Please enjoy this fourth chapter in my installment! A new character comes into play here! :D! Go on, read! Enjoy Ch. 4!**

Chapter 4—Driven to the Brink of Madness

Prim's POV

"Come on over."

"Oh, Ian," I say, grinning madly. "Oh, god, this is going to be awesome!"

He sounds unsure when he says, "Of course it is."

I wring my hands and pluck a marker from my desk. Snatching a piece of paper, I begin scribbling down a list.

"I gotta go, I'm making a list of stuff we need, and I'll call you tomorrow. Bye, love you, leave me alone."

He laughs as I hang up the phone.

My penmanship is awful, it's changed so much. I can't do cursive or shorthand; I just kind of do wobbly letters in scrappy sizes. My writing is crap. But it's not the only thing that's changed.

I've become darker, more secretive and moody. I hang out with the "tough" kids at school. I mean, I'm still a pretty good student, B+ average, but my whole personality has changed. My "clique", the rough students, actually accept me better than anyone else. They get what I'm going through, and they're experiencing it themselves.

My closest friend in our group (nicknamed "the Sleaziness"), Cassandra, is actually really nice and I have no idea how she got into the Sleaziness. She puts on a scowl and keeps quiet while we're hanging out behind the school at recess, but after they leave she's a babbling brook. She always compliments me and makes suggestions kindly and I quite like her. But even though I like her it doesn't mean that she's my best friend.

My best friend is probably Elisa, who lives two doors down from my old house in the Seam. We're always laughing and having an awesome time around each other. Elisa Kenning, the 15-year-old artist and Gandhi (some guy who lived long, long, long before Panem and when Panem was "North America", thanks to my Ancient History class), and I, Primrose Hazel Grace Everdeen, the rookie rough girl and secret-hider trying to love someone and be sane and nice at the same time, are inseparable. Ever since I moved to Victor's Village, we've walked to the old bridge by Dappling Cardinal River, which runs straight through 12 into 11. It's a beautiful place.

Anyway, my list looks something like this:

**SUPPLIES NEEDED TO SMUGGLE IAN OUT OF 10**

**-all the regular survival stuff food water first aid **

**-rope**

**-weapon of any sort**

**-cell phone**

**-map compass clock all the how to not get lost stuff**

**-stuff to keep me busy **

**-disguise**

**-sleeping bag gloves coat the entire how to not get frostbite stuff**

**-bug spray**

**-plan a**

**-also a plan b in case i like almost die**

**-probably a lot of spur of the moment stuff**

**PLAN A**

**trek on foot to 10, using all the stuff i listed above**

**get ian out of victor's village with a peacekeeper disguise**

**trek back to 12**

**not die**

**live happily ever after**

**PLAN B**

**trek on foot/on mini hovercraft**

**get ian out of victor's village w/o disguise**

**trek back to 12**

**not die**

**live happily ever after**

**POSSIBLE OTHER PLAN (PLAN B AND1/2)**

**get haymitch to fly to me 10**

**pluck ian off his front lawn**

**FLY SUPER FAST BACK TO 12**

**hide ian for a really long time**

**come out**

**get married**

**and live happily ever after**

I smile and tuck my hair behind my ears. Gone are the ponytails that trail over my shoulders, the girlish looks and innocence. No, I am part of the Sleaziness now, and there is no going back.

Three soft knocks on my door. I whirl around to find Katniss, her cheeks pink and her eyes wild.

"What?" I ask sharply.

She raises her eyebrows, failing to look stern. "Listen, I need you to forget your loneliness for awhile and forget Ian and—and come with me!"

I stare at her, bemused.

"What do you mean, forget? I'm—oh! I'm working on something!" I say quickly, trying to shield my list casually. "Where are you going?"

She holds up a flyer. "All the victors are going to the 12th Annual Victors' Convention! They only started it a few years ago—12, in fact. I get to bring a guest, and—I've been feeling like we haven't talked—talked much lately, so I'm bringing you—here!"

Katniss sounds winded, shocked, and extremely happy all at the same time. I want, with all my heart, to say yes, to say let's go, to say I love you. But Ian…needs me. I can't go. I just can't, since I'm planning to leave in a week.

"Katniss…" I begin, watching the light dim in her eyes. "I'm really sorry, but—"

Katniss's shoulders stiffen. "No, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being an insensitive jerk that has been uncaring about you and Ian. I've—I've blamed myself for this…I should've protected you better, should've kept you from getting reaped…please, please come with me, I can make things okay between us again! Please, Prim!"

My heart cracks as she speaks these words. _She thinks it's her fault. _Oh, if only I could tell her…but no, she'd never let me.

So instead, being the awful selfish slug I am, I say "I'll think about it". Katniss's eyes lose their shine altogether, her smile dissipates, and her posture slumps slightly.

"Alright, see you," she says softly, closing the door behind her, leaving the bright purple flyer on the table. It reads:

_CAPITOL NEWS:_

_Dearest victors, _

_You are invited to a lovely gathering to celebrate your winnings, talk the next Games, and share your chilling experiences in the arena. Join us in District 4's CITY CENTRE building, by request of Mr. Cornelius J. Snow, the president of our wondrous nation, Panem. CITY CENTRE is located in the center of District 4's biggest city, Lojo. Peacekeepers will patrol the peaceful beachfront as you enjoy top-class catering, service, and time. Time and date: May 12 at 12:00 sharp. Thank you._

_VICTORS OF DISTRICT 12:_

_HAYMITCH ABERNATHY_

_KATNISS EVERDEEN_

_PRIMROSE EVERDEEN_

_PEETA MELLARK_

_(IAN RESEDA)_

The realization of this flyer hits me.

_Ian might be there! _

Oh, lord, yes! I call Katniss back into my room, where she comes running to instantly.

"Yes?" she asks hopefully.

"I'll go!" I say cheerfully, waving the purple paper. Katniss's smile is as wide as 4's beach as she laughs happily.

"It's going to be amazing," she says, hugging me by my shoulders. "After all that's happened, finally we can be regular friends, shopping in 4 and trying seafood and joking around at the convention."

Friends, not sisters. This is why I love Katniss. Because she doesn't think of me as only a sister. We're best friends; we can talk about anything and everything.

This convention is looking up.


	5. Chapter 5

_Don't Look Back—Chapter 5_

**A/N: I keep lying about this new character! Sorry, she comes in here. Alright! Here we go! Chapter 5! Enjoy! **

Chapter 5: Eyeing and Crying

Ian's POV

"What?"

"I can't go," I say miserably. "My guards won't let me. They say being in public with 'my own kind' is not allowed. I'm really sorry."

Primrose sighs. "That's the reason I was going!"

"Not to spend time with Katniss?" I burst out, angry that I can't meet her. "Some sister!"

Primrose gets so mad that she hangs up the phone after shouting "Hold your tongue more carefully next time!"

I chuck the phone across the room, mad at everything. I can't even go into a different building! I'm allowed only to my city, Dealt, and my house! And the only two people I've ever seen out and about are Diana and some other girl who I almost never see, unless she's taking out the garbage! I can't stand it any longer!

"AURGH!" I yell out the window, throwing the first thing I pick up—a tourist book (pamphlet, really)—out of it. I yell for awhile longer, yelling and cursing and swearing very loudly.

There's two very loud knocks on my front door. I sigh, pull on a blue t-shirt over my white undershirt, and walk downstairs.

One more knock as I reach the doorknob.

I yank the door open and say, angrily, "WHAT?"

It's Diana, the little flower-selling girl who's surprisingly mature and collected for her age. She cowers slightly as the yell leaves my vocal cords.

"Oh. It's you."

"Hello, Ian," she says nervously, her caramel eyes searching my face for any sign of violence. "I heard you yelling and thought you were hurt."

"I'm fine. Just a little upset."

Diana tilts her head slightly. "Why?"

I invite her in and sit her down on one of the dusty, leathery sofas that sit in the grubby dining room. Her golden braid, shining magnificently in the one bright thing in my house, the lights, is almost the exact color of her eyes. Caramel, I should call her. Caramel.

"You look like a Caramel," I say lightly, pleased by the puzzled expression on her face.

"What? Caramel? What's that?"

"You've never had caramel? God, let me see…I think I have some…" I get up and walk to the tiny kitchen, occupied by a broken microwave, an oven that you have to fuel yourself, and a fridge that's not much cooler than the house itself.

I withdraw from the bottom part of the freezer two small, wrapped pieces of caramel.

"These, my dear Diana, are caramels. Deliciously gooey, although pretty darn awful for your teeth."

Her eyes light up, the exact same color as the candies I'm unwrapping. "They look very nice," she says slowly, although her eyes beg for the sweets, "but Mama and Dad say I'm not allowed to take anything from strangers."

"Oh, come on. I'm not a stranger."

"You technically are, since all I know about you is your name, and for all I know you could by lying."

The logic is killing me.

"Maybe I should just eat both. Then you can trust me."

Her eyes shine with the flame of great knowledge.

"I guess so…"

Diana's hands clasp each other as she begins twiddling her fingers. "Do you have another caramel, in case you aren't lying? Oh, my God, I've just realized something—I'm inside a stranger's house!" Her braid swishes with every word. "Oh, no, no, no, no, oh, Mama's going to kill me, Dad's going to skin me alive…"

"LOOK!" I say loudly, over her frightened babbles. "They don't have to know you're over here! You said—you said your dad broke his back—"

"My mother broke her back and my dad went out of work, and my sister Caitlyn is too young to work."

I instantly begin listening very hard. "Caitlyn? You have a sister?"

"Oh, no! Oh, I need to stop talking, I need to keep quiet…can I go, please? Thank you for the invitation…" Her eyes begin darting around the room, her fingers massaging and pinching each other. "Please, I really must get back."

"Wait, wait…I need to know about your sister. Why can't she work?"

"Because—because—AUGH. I can't tell you! Please let me go!"

I stuff the caramels into my mouth, shutting her up instantly.

"You said I could come visit, Diana."

"I felt pitiful for you! I thought you were homeless! I didn't know you lived _here_!" Her eyes well up with tears. One races down her cheek and she brushes it away with her thumb, staring up at me, petrified. I feel awful, but I really need some answers. Caitlyn…Caitlyn…this could be a deal-breaker if she's not working. I decide to keep this conversation up.

"I gave you money!"

"You gave me, as I thought, all that you had."

I sigh. "I told you there was more."

"When you're nervous, you don't listen much!" She sighs, her eyes furiously pricking with tears. "Let me go! I'm so scared, please; oh please let me go…"

"I'm so sorry about this, Diana, but I really just need some answers. I will let you go after you tell me three things about your sister. Important things."

She trembles. "Oh…I don't know…"

I suck on the caramels loudly. Diana cringes as she begins to speak.

"My sister Caitlyn is your age. Sixteen. She doesn't look like the rest of my family. She's always hanging around somewhere—always somewhere shady." Diana backs against the door. "Now. Let. Me. Out."

I obey, opening the door quickly. Diana darts out, a paper fluttering out of her pocket. I pluck it from the ground just as she rushes back in. "It's not you, okay? It's not because I'm afraid of you. I'm just—my dad just—he just—I saw him wave out your window. Three waves, two jumps. My mother's having another panic attack, another nightmare…I'll be back!" She leaves without taking the paper.

It shows a number carefully traced in beautiful handwriting.

_121-5643-98067._

The number is too many digits for a regular phone number, too long for a code, and too short for what the Capitol calls "useless, broken numbers" but really were District 13 phone numbers, each one ten digits. This one is twelve. What is it?

I watch Diana run back to her house, to her father, and guilt nearly gives me a heart attack. I kept her from her mother, her poor, injured mother and her terrified father. I kept her for some stupid answers about a sister I'll never even meet. I kept her from her _family_.

The phone buzzes. A text from Primrose. I didn't know we could send texts too…

I tap the surface of the phone. Her text is quite surprising.

_Ian,_

_ I'm really sorry about making you mad, I really am. _

_ I know what you said about me becoming depressed. Well, that kinda depends on what your definition of "depressed" is. Is hanging around shady kids nicknamed "The Sleaziness" depressed? No? Yes? I honestly don't know. But if it IS, well, then, I guess I've become depressed. I don't think that's qualified as depressed though. More like…a personality transfer. I am still usually pleased, sometimes even joyful. I just feel like the Sleaziness gets me, gets what I'm going through. I'm not cutting or writing hipster things like "What is Life to the Branded Soul" or whatever. I swear. I'm just hanging around different people. _

_ I still love you, Ian, and I always will. I get lost in your eyes when I see you and I still think about you every moment I'm not thinking of trying to get to you._

_ Love forever,_

_ Primrose Everdeen_

She's not depressed. I believe she'll soon _be_ depressed, but isn't right now and I need to stop her from doing this any longer. I quickly respond—

_Really, Primrose, it's alright. I was angry that I couldn't see you, and I love you too._

_ But DO NOT hang around "The Sleaziness" ANY longer. You WILL become depressed by hanging around depressed people. PLEASE do not tell me you have dyed your hair black and gotten twelve piercings since I left. DO NOT GO EMO. I love you._

_ —Ian _

Primrose doesn't respond, so I watch for Diana. I don't see her running down the road, I don't see her sitting by her flower stand, and I don't see her playing around with her dog.

That reminds me, how do they afford a dog, of all things? Diana's barely getting by on her flower business, how is she paying for another living thing? Does it eat only scraps? Is it nearly dead? No, she was playing with it just a few days ago…What the heck?

The phone buzzes again.

A series of texts that nearly choke me with only a few words:

_stop_

_ i'm _

_ watching_

_ you_

I drop the phone on the ground, recoiling as if it's a horrifying insect.

Oh, my God.

Someone knows. Someone knows about Primrose and I, unless it's just a prank? A prank from Primrose, probably; if that's the case, however, then it's a sick joke. I can't be sure, but I feel my stomach drop suddenly into my feet. This is really bad, this uncertainty, and if it's a Capitolite then we're done, we're dead, just mere memories…

_They must be tracking us._

Our texts, our calls, our every word, tracked, recorded, and surveyed. They know Primrose is planning something, they know about Diana, they know about every instant of our lives, because we talk so much. I wouldn't be shocked if they had a whole _Everdeen-Reseda Notification and Tracking Center_ in the Capitol.

I yell some _very_ inappropriate words into the phone, wanting the Capitol to hear me. I think quickly and improvise, pausing for about ten seconds, and then racking up the loud sniffles and wails. "So you've found out, I see! You've found out that—that I miss the publicity, the—the—the fame, and you've found out that P-P-Primrose was _going_ to c-c-come…I don't c-c-care about P-P-Primrose anymore, she's a g-g-good source of f-f-fame, oh-oh-oh, I J-J-JUST WANT THE P-P-PUBLICITY, B-B-BRING BACK THE P-P-PUBLICITY!"

Then I hang up with a final, guttering cry. "AUGHGUGAHGUAGHAUGH!"

Smiling, pleased with my acting, I chuck the phone onto my bed, watching it bounce around wildly.

"God, I hate you," I whisper, my insides full of fire.

"What the heck is wrong with you?" I hear from my window. "God, are you gonna wake up the whole neighborhood? Jeez, stop swearing and use your common sense, idiot!"

Peering down, I see a breathtakingly beautiful girl standing in the flowerbeds. She has lightish brown hair pulled into a messy braid, not unlike Katniss's. Her dark brown eyes stare quizzically and angrily up at me. She looks _very_ athletic and _very_ annoyed. I can't help but feel my heart race as she speaks again.

"Please, do us all a favor and shut up."

"God, sorry for interrupting a very important walk," I say back, my breath catching in my throat as she locks her dark eyes onto my green ones. "Who're you, anyway, listening to my conversations in my petunias?"

"I'm Elly Opal, and I was _half a block away_ when I heard some rude, rude words." She smiles quite evilly, and my heart almost stops.

_Ian, stop._

_ Ian, no._

_ Ian, she's not Primrose._

_ She's just a MEAN pretty girl._

_ Very pretty girl…_

"Hey, um, Elly, where do you live?"

She crinkles her nose. "Why?"

"Because, I need some company."

Elly grins widely, no trace of evil apparent. She points to a smallish cluster of houses behind the Potter River, a lovely little river that runs straight through the divide between Elly's neighborhood and Victor's Village.

"I live right over there. Shame the Potter River separates the two groups. Well, maybe not quite a shame. Our two neighborhoods—well, the neighborhood and VV—technically don't get along that well."

I snort. "A neighborhood feud?"

"Precisely, it's the dumbest thing I've ever heard of in my life." Elly shifts her weight. "D'you think you could come outside? I'd rather not yell."

I nod and turn away nonchalantly, then suddenly race down the steps and out of the door. I turn to Elly and walk with my hands in my jean pockets, trying to be cool.

"So," I say, trying to sound very calm, "come around often?"

Elly raises an eyebrow. "Okay. First of all, drop the 'buff guy' act. Second of all, you have a girlfriend. I know that. Third, yeah, duh, my aunt lives across from VV." Her eyes scan me, raking in every detail from my flyaway hair to my scruffy Converse sneakers. "You do have a girlfriend, you know that, correct?"

"Correct. It's just—I mean—yeah, I do, I just tend to like to impress beautiful girls." I wink. She narrows those eyes, the warmth diminishing.

"You do _not_ call me beautiful. Do _not_ lie to me. Do _not_ do this when you know you have a freaking girlfriend. You do not call other girls 'beautiful' behind your girlfriend's back. You jerk!"

She turns, her hair shifting magnificently. I grab her arm as she takes her first step.

"Do not touch me." Her voice is hard, cold, and incredibly emotionless. She frees her arm of my grasp and begins to walk.

"You can compliment others," I say softly, quietly, so she has to strain to hear. "I just have been alone for so long. I'm sorry, Elly."

Her steps stop and her back stiffens. The braid is becoming undone. But as she turns, her face lovely in the slightly setting sun, she smiles slightly.

"Me too, Ian."

She steps closer, squeezes my hand, and says again,

"Me too."


	6. Chapter 6

_Don't Look Back—Chapter 6_

**A/N: Hi, everyone! So, do you ship Elian (Elly + Ian) or Prian (Primrose + Ian)? I'd like to know, because I'm actually considering Elian winning out. But that's really unlikely. Just a reminder—Ian will always love Primrose, he's just been alone for SUCH a long time that seeing a beautiful person kinda just **_**click—**_**he wants to impress her. I don't own "Let Her Go" by Passenger. Enjoy Ch. 6!**

Chapter 6—No Thank You

Primrose's POV

It's been three days since I sent Ian the apology text. I'm really feeling quite awful about what I did, even though I apologized. We're good now. I've texted him again, telling him that I won't be able to respond from District 4. I miss his voice, but I think a good relaxation break will be good for me.

I sigh and flop back down on my bed. I honestly don't know if I want to go to 4 anymore. It's going to be awkward with Katniss and Peeta on the trip, Haymitch and Effie will be there, and my only company will probably be Buttercup, who I'm allowed to take with me.

Buttercup prowls the graciously scrubbed hardwood floors (he puked on them yesterday and Mother nearly had to rub the wood right off the ground), poking at my socks, which lay on the floor. I haven't bothered to clean my room much, although I really quite want to. I can't stand being unorganized.

The Sleaziness…I don't know if I can do this anymore.

You've got the leader, Xavier, who gets drunk three times a day and smuggles cigarettes into homeroom. He's got four piercings, speech lessons, and two left feet. His girlfriend, Maze, is a heck of a girl. Her ears are droopy, due to the fact that she wears about three million heavy, dangly golden earrings a day. Her clothes are ripped, and she's _quite_ smart in certain fields, like partying all night and kissing. Maze's best friends, Danni and Clarissa, are both redheads and both very experienced with boys, detention, sneaking out, and how to chug beer. Kyle's dad is a Peacekeeper, and you'd think he'd have been educated not to hang out with kids like us. Kyle wears saggy jeans, ripped and tight t-shirts, and once showed up in tighty-whities. That's all. His girlfriend Amy is a rebellion girl, who kisses Kyle every chance she gets. Cassandra glares and keeps quiet, like I said, but after them she's as radiant as the sun. I wish I was a bit like that. But I think I'm stuck on "drunk with love" and "addicted to the drug I call Ian" mode.

"Oh, Buttercup," I simper, watching his gorgeous yellow eyes follow a butterfly's path outside. "Let's go outside, c'mon, let's go." Buttercup purrs and I kiss his nose, pluck him off the ground, and carry him out of my room.

"Ugh, he's still around?" Katniss says, indicating us. "I say shut him outside and lock the cat door."

_"KATNISS!" _I yell, my eyes welling with tears. "He is my only friend right now and you'll leave him well enough alone!" I hurry to the door and slam it shut.

The air is balmy and sweet and smells of honeysuckle. The butterfly is gone, flown away, probably a really far distance away, far away from a cat it didn't know wanted to kill it.

I'm far away from the cat, Snow, who wants to kill me, the butterfly. But that doesn't mean I'm safe. The butterfly is facing rain, wind, other animals, even fatigue. I'm facing Peacekeepers, distance, heartache, my own family at times, and peer pressure. Depression I'm not sure about; am I depressed or am I just in a mood?

We settle at the Dapper Cardinal River, Buttercup hissing like the water as he prods at a tree root. _Meow. Mew. Mew. _His adorable little furious swipes make me feel content, sweet.

"Here, Buttercup!" I say, patting the grass next to me. His yellow eyes flit over to me, and he purrs happily. "Aww, you sweetheart," I coo, cradling him in my arms. His bottlebrush tail flicks in the air as Buttercup squirms in my grasp, attempting comfort. Finally he gives up and shoots out of my arms, toward the river, pawing at fish.

It's a balmy day and the breeze tickles my face and hair as it brushes past me. The flowers near the river sway gently in the air, the trees musing together to form a lovely song. _This is relaxation._

And suddenly an image of Ian and I bursts into my mind so clearly I could've sworn something conjured it—

_"Ian!" I giggle, chasing him through the valley. _

_ "Catch me, Primrose!" His voice sounds pleased, but begging. "Catch me! Hurry!"_

_ "Hmm?" I laugh. "Don't be a Debby Downer."_

_ His voice switches from pleased to terrified. "Primrose! PRIMROSE! HURRY! THEY'RE COMING!"_

_ "Oh, you trickster," I say happily, but part of my brain knows something's wrong, part of me knows I have to help, so why am I not running, why…_

_ "PRIM—AUGH!"_

_ And he disappears, vanishes into thin air, his scream filling the peaceful air._

"AH!" I yell, sitting straight up. My breath is ragged, my head is spinning, and my lungs aren't working right, oh my God…

Did I fall asleep? Was that real? I can't tell. I feel sick and cold, even though nothing's changed, except Buttercup is pawing at my shoe and mewing softly.

"Oh…it's okay, Buttercup…just a little…nightmare…" I cough. "It's alright. Let's…let's head back home."

The sky is bright and cheerful and as blue as a bird as we start back to Victor's Village, and I feel so clammy, nervous, and shaken that I have to swallow back bile as I trudge onward, Buttercup clamped firmly in my trembling arms.

_Stop being stupid, Primrose, nothing's wrong with you. You feel asleep and had a nightmare. You're not five. Be the good girl you always are, be the good girl you always have to be…_

"Let's go back, Buttercup, I don't like it," I mumble. I clasp him firmly in my arms and march back home, trying to ignore my churning stomach and my pounding head.

"Returned so soon?" Katniss says, genuinely concerned. "I'm sorry about before."

"It's okay, I'm not angry," I say lightly, trying to sound as confident as I did when my name was called for the reaping… "I'm going to call Ian. Feed him, would you?"

She nods. "C'mere, you big old beast. Kidding," she adds hastily, at the sight of my face.

I run back outside, for some strange reason, not wanting to go to my room anymore. Confinement would be awful, right now, and I can't take too much more of this.

_the little bird_

_ how sweet! how lovely!_

_ flies on and on_

_ under_

_ estimated_

_ and _

_ over_

_ protected_

_ but what if_

_ her wings_

_ just_

_ stopped?_

_ would_

_ any_

_ one_

_ care at all, or_

_ would they_

_ only _

_ pretend_

I sigh and fall on my back, softly on the grass, everything sharper and clearer than usual, despite my still-spinning head.

_would they_

_ rush forward and_

_ catch her? or would they_

_ only watch?_

_ would they _

_ yell for help and_

_ protect her? or would they_

_ smile softly? because_

_ she's gone_

_ gone_

_ gone _

_ would she lie?_

_ under_

_ protected and_

_ over_

_ estimated_

_ the weight of the_

_ world_

_ on her_

_ shoulders?_

"Only know you love him, when you let him go," I whisper, my eyes closed. But the problem is, I can't let him go without truly falling apart. "Only miss the sun, when it starts to snow. Only hate the road, when you're missing home. Only know you love him, when you let him go.

"And you let him go."

I will not let Ian go, I won't let go of him like all of the other things I've let go of…so many people I've left for the wind…

Katniss. My mother. Cassandra. Elisa. Peeta. Haymitch. Effie. Lauren. Logan.

Everyone.

"Let him go…"

I tuck my hair behind my ears, take a deep breath, and run.

Straight toward Dapper Cardinal River.

I wonder what drowning feels like.

**A/N: Oooh, cliffhanger! (Don't worry…or should you?)**


	7. Chapter 7

_Don't Look Back—Chapter 7_

**A/N: It's okay.**

**That's all time will tell, right now.**

**Enjoy Ch. 7!**

Chapter 7—Phone Call Dangers

Elly's POV

"Ian!" I yell from below his window, chucking a pebble or two against the glass.

He grins and sticks his head out of his house. I frown and throw another rock. It hits him square in the face.

"Jesus Christ, Elly, I'm listening!"

"It's—it's your girlfriend," I say breathlessly. "She—she—she…" I can't force the words out. "Just…just come with me." I hold my hand out.

His face is slowly draining of color. He jumps straight out the window and grabs my hand.

"What the hell is wrong with her?" he whispers, his voice cracking.

"She…she…" I bite my lip. He's going to explode if I don't tell him; he's going to explode if I do.

"ELLY OPAL!" he yells.

"Don't YELL at me! If you freaking want to know you don't SCREAM at people!" I clamp my hands over my face, a tear rolling down my cheek. I wipe it slowly, shamefacedly, already pitiful for him.

"SHUT YOUR FACE AND TELL ME WHAT'S WRONG WITH THE LOVE OF MY LIFE!"

I blink hard, and say, mustering all warmth I can, "She attempted suicide in the Dapper Cardinal River. I'm really sorry."

His face loses all color and all hell breaks loose.

"YOU LIAR, SHE DIDN'T, SHE COULDN'T HAVE, NO, SHE PROMISED, SHE _PROMISED_, I MIGHT THINK YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL AND I MIGHT LOVE TO SEE YOU BUT SHE DIDN'T, YOU LITTLE LIAR, DON'T YOU DARE TELL ME THAT, YOU SICK JOKER, THAT'S MESSED UP, YOU DON'T DO THAT TO A PERSON—"

"Shh, Ian, it's okay, she's okay, her sister pulled her out. She's in the hospital." I look into his eyes, his tear-filled, raging eyes, and I hug him tightly. He pushes himself away from me.

"I CAN'T! I LOVE PRIMROSE, AND I LOVE YOU AT THE SAME TIME, AND EVEN THOUGH I JUST MET YOU LAST WEEK I REALLY MIGHT LOVE YOU! DON'T TOUCH ME! I CAN'T—I LOVE PRIMROSE—MORE THAN YOU, ELLY, I'M SORRY BUT THAT'S HOW IT HAS TO BE!"

"It's okay!" I say, bewildered and flattered at the same time. "I don't love you. You're my best friend here, but I swear to God I don't love you. It's alright. I'm sorry if this changes anything."

His face crumples slightly. "Oh. Sorry—I just thought—sorry."

I hug him again, and this time he obliges, the tears really coming down now. His sobs mask my ragged breaths. I can't stand seeing him like this. He's so strong, even though I met him seven days ago, I can tell. He won the Hunger Games. He's not supposed to cry—and yet, I see how much he loves Primrose Everdeen now. He's sobbing over her, even though he knows she's alive. He's crying for her, even though he knows she'll be alright. The very thought of him without her is enough to send him to hysterics.

"Hey. Hey. Shh. It's going to be fine," I say, cupping his chin in my hands. "I'll bet she was sad and upset. I can tell you haven't been talking to her. That's probably all. It's not a big deal—"

He starts yelling again. "IT'S ALL MY FAULT, OH MY GOD, I DIDN'T CALL HER, I DIDN'T TALK TO HER, OH MY GOD, IT'S MY FAULT, SHE WANTS TO DIE BECAUSE OF ME, OH MY GOD, I'M A HORRIBLE PERSON, I'M GOING TO ROT IN HELL, I COULD'VE MADE PRIMROSE _KILL_ HERSELF, OH NO, OH MY GOD, OH, OH, OH, THIS IS BAD, ELLY YOU'VE GOT TO HELP ME, ELLY PLEASE HELP ME!"

"IAN!" I say, smacking him.

He stares at me, feeling his cheek.

"SHUT UP AND LISTEN!" I yell again. "You can't just scream about these things. If all you did was scream, what would be accomplished? You need to act. And I'm going to help you."

He wipes his face furiously. "Sorry about—about being like a four-year-old."

"It's okay. I'm on your side. Quite alright, you know, screaming; but you should really control your anger."

He grabs my hand suddenly. "You need to come to a convention with me. It's a convention for all of the victors. I need a guest. I told Primrose I couldn't go, but really I just was lying. I was going to surprise her. But if a Capitol guard was with me at all times, it wouldn't be any fun! Elly, you have to come with me!"

I study him. It would mean so much for him to go.

"When is it?" I say, squinting.

"Three days from now, please, Elly." He squeezes my hand again, gazing at me intently.

"I swear to God if you pick me over Primrose I will kill you," I blurt out, covering my mouth afterwards.

"What?" Ian says blankly.

"You can't fall in love with me, Ian," I say, wiping my eyes and rubbing my arms, turning from him. "You just _can't_."

_He can't know. Don't let it show, Elly. He can't know anything about it. If he finds out…_

"I'm trying not to, Elly. But it's like—you're the New Primrose. You're the Primrose of District 10, the irresistibly beautiful, charming, intelligent girl that I can't help but fall for instantly. And you keep creeping up on me when I least expect it. I keep telling myself, _'You love Primrose. You love Primrose.' _And I do. I swear, honest to God, I do. But as soon as I tell myself I'm going to stop loving you, you hit me again with full-on loveliness. I'm sorry. I just can't help it. You're Primrose of 10. I believe I love Primrose of 12 loads more, but…it's been two years, Elly, two years without her. She's fading, while you bold." He turns and sighs.

"You _can't, _Ian," I say, still rubbing my arms. "You just _can't_."

"Why?" he asks softly. "It's not because you're afraid?"

_"You have a girlfriend!"_ I yell, not really caring. I really like Primrose, but this isn't about her. _"You can't ditch her! You won the Hunger Games with her!"_

"Elly…I love Primrose 12. But I also love you. My heart is on a constant tug-of-war game." His eyes, brilliantly green, shine in the afternoon sun. "I've told you."

"I have to go," I say suddenly. His face, already pale, crumples. He's trembling. Primrose's death attempt has killed him inside.

"I still love her more," he says desperately. "I'm sorry, please stay…"

_"But I don't love you, Ian,"_ I whisper, his desire making me uncomfortably sad. "I gotta go. Goodbye," I say jerkily, running as fast as I can.

Prim's POV

i open my eyes. _where am i? _a white ceiling stares back down at me, a comfy bed beneath me comforts my aching back. why am i lying somewhere, apparently a hospital?

and then it all comes flooding back. the icy cold of the river, the water rushing over my head, sinking so perfectly…fainting so amazingly, then ruining it by waking up, the heaviness as i was carried to a lake, then sunk to the bottom, blacking out suddenly… then rough hands yanking me out, screaming and sobbing, and flashing lights, rudely awakened…

"goddangit," i whisper, so close but so far.

_why did they save me? i jumped into that river for a reason! ian not calling me, he's got a new girlfriend from the news lately, he must hate me for leaving and not coming, i should've come sooner! i need to get to him now!_

i begin to get up, but a severe pain in my entire body forces me back down.

"the heck?" i whisper. electric charges, i see. i can't get up. how dumb is that? "oh, freaking wonderful."

"katniss!" i scream, pounding my fist. "katniss!"

katniss comes running in, breathless with anxiety. "hi," she says softly.

"what the heck is this? i can't move!"

her face falls. she wasn't expecting this. she was expecting, _oh my god, i love you and i'm so sorry, oh my god, i shouldn't have done that, oh no, i'm so sorry!_ but that's not who i am anymore. i am not a blubbering baby girl who apologizes for everything and anything. i was before the reaping. but now i am not.

_i have to get to ian._

that's my only thought, ever, that keeps me alive. the fact that he's all over the news—"a heart-wrenching decision as he leaves behind the fierce, beautiful fighter for the mysterious, gorgeous town girl"—makes me even angrier.

"well, we had to restrict you somehow," katniss says quietly, and i start, forgetting she was in the room. "we knew you'd try to escape."

"where am i going to go?" i say snippily.

"ian," she replies, her voice low, heartbroken.

my face flushes and drains of color at the same time. "what makes you say that?" i whisper, deadly dangerous.

"oh. your—eh—lists." she holds up the scribbled on, crumpled pieces of paper that i wrote a month ago.

"those were plans that are now out of order," i say, my voice dripping with venom. "you shouldn't be too quick to judge. why would i walk to 10, see him, and walk back? i don't even _like_ him anymore."

katniss's lips part and she chews on the inside of her cheek. "are you sure, primrose?" she asks, concerned. "you were mad for him—"

"i know i was!" i yell, making katniss jump. "i was lonely, forced to go into a damn _hunger games_ and kill my best friends, and watch them die, all while you and peeta made out and haymitch drank and effie probably was styling stupid outfits, and nobody cared, and now ian has a girlfriend and so i have to get over him because it's been two years and he doesn't call me anymore, he hasn't for three weeks, and it's tearing me apart and i tried to die but death didn't want me, i'm being rejected even by death, and you need to help me, katniss, i have to see ian!"

her eyes shine with tears. "i thought you said you didn't like him."

"i don't," i say, tears of my own pricking my eyes. "i love him."


	8. Chapter 8

_Don't Look Back—Chapter 8_

**A/N: Whew. You just totally took a huge breath because, yeah, **_**Prim is okay. **_**It's going to be cool. Although, maybe not for Prian…kidding, I'm kidding, maybe. Enjoy Ch. 8!**

**(Also: if one character had to die, who would it preferably be, for you?)**

Chapter 8—Perfect Day

Ian's POV

"Elly."

"What?" she asks softly, scooting closer to me on the rough wooden bench. "Is something wrong? Is it Prim again? She's okay."

"I know." I take a deep breath. "I just wanted to say…I'm sorry, for yelling at you, and calling you a liar, and pushing you aside. I'm really sorry."

Her eyelashes flutter. Her eyes become wide, and then her pupils dilate. "Oh. Yeah. It's okay, you were just angry."

"And also…"

She senses what's coming next and says quickly, "I'm sorry for…you know…the…uhm…"

"For not loving me back," I finish dully. "Yeah, it's fine; it wasn't going to work anyway." I gaze at her, wanting her to believe something. "You've got to understand, Elly, I love Primrose so much…I've been so, so lonely…and you remind me of her…I'm sorry."

Elly stares back at me, her eyes twinkling in the late afternoon's light. "I know, Ian. I feel…I've felt the same way. You know, loving someone who loves someone more, or who doesn't love you at all. It's tough, especially when you know the truth, huh?"

"Yeah," I agree.

And then she does something that surprises me even more. She leans toward my face and kisses my cheek gently, like something you'd do to an infant. She smells like pine and lavender and something I can't pick up, something sunny and sweet.

Then Elly gets up and holds out a hand. "C'mon. Stand up, lazybones."

"Where are we going?" I ask tentatively, still touching my cheek.

"The best place in the whole _world_," she says, breathless with excitement. "I go there every day to swim, to draw, even to just be alone with my own crazy thoughts."

I smile. Her words are like more kisses to my cheeks, my lips.

"You must know I've told no one about this spot since I found this," she says, pleased, as I get to my feet. "I thought since we're—uhm—_good friends_ that I should show you this." She runs a hand through her messy hair. "We can hang out there. It's warm enough to swim now. The water gets warm really easily."

"It's the best place in the whole _world_, right?" I tease.

She faces me, deadly serious. "When you've got no p—friends, it's kind of hard to have a 'best place'. I'm lucky I found—"

"—the place, I know, I know," I finish.

"—you," Elly says, raising an eyebrow. "God, so quick to jump to conclusions; but I guess I am pretty lucky to have found the place as well. It's literally the calmest, most beautiful place you'll ever see. C'mon. We've got to get there before sunset. It's prettiest then." She flings her arms out, her face breathtaking in the light. Her hair is streaked with gold, I notice, gold from the sun's gentle kisses. It's light brown sprinkled with sun. It's lovely.

"The weather today is so perfect," she explains as we walk. "The air is light and warm. The breeze cools you down but the sun makes sure you don't get cold. It's one of those Perfect Days."

"A Perfect Day," I repeat, looking sideways at her.

"My God, you've never had a Perfect Day before?" she asks, genuinely startled. "A Perfect Day can be anything. It can be a day at the beach when the weather's hot, a great day with your best friend, even just a real day where you lie down in the grass and let your thoughts wander free. I love Perfect Days."

"I've had one, at least," I say. "But it wasn't really a Perfect Day. More like a Perfect Moment."

"Oh? What was it?" Elly smiles slightly. "I'll bet you I have a better Perfect Moment."

"Try me," I challenge.

"M'kay. It was when I got out of the hospital. I had lung cancer and throat cancer. It sucked for the longest time. I lost all my hair, I was thin and bony, I was ugly, and I was upset. I couldn't wait to get out of the damn place. All the nurses were like 'Oh, poor dear' and 'what a fighter'. Psh, they were as wrong as they could be. I let go. I stopped talking, smiling, being me. I was just a skeleton with a working body but my soul was gone. I fell into a dream. In that dream I was a regular person, pretty and smart and I wasn't sick. But then I started believing it. I believed my dream. And I got better. They stopped the cancer. I was okay again. And now I'm better than ever. See my hair? Its loads thinner than it was. My eyebrows took forever and I just hated them for awhile. And when they let me out of that prison, I was free. I remember walking through the doors without a wheelchair, my hair fuzz and my eyes taking everything in. The ugly fountain of the trout spewing hospital water, the flowers perfuming their scent, the trees whispering greetings and congratulations; I remember it all. It was the perfect moment, with my mom and dad by my side, my legs running with my mind. It was perfect."

"Wow," I whisper. "I'm really sorry, Elly."

She glares at me. "That's the thing I hate most."

"What is?"

"The apologies, I hate apologies. Did you do anything to me? No. Did you cause my cancer? No. So why are you apologizing?" Her eyes shine and her hair flows down her back. "But anyway, I guess it's fine. I'm okay now, aren't I?"

"Partly," I say, and she laughs out loud.

"This is why we're friends," Elly says. "I'm the insane one and you're there to balance me out."

I smile and drape my arm around her shoulders. It's not a romantic gesture. It's just a friendly thing. Even though my heart aches for her and for Primrose at the same time, I need to also be a friend.

"So what is your 'Perfect Moment,' hmm?" she asks, not removing my arm.

"Well, we were in the arena, in the Hunger Games two years ago. Me and Primrose, that is. And this giant wave was about to wash over us. Five, I think, were already dead because of it. Our friend Gregg had left us for our own, on our own terms, after robbing us of our weapons and our dignity. We freaking trusted him and he took our means of life. Just imagine, two thirteen-year-olds stuck alone on a tree branch ready to die. Primrose was there. She was so beautiful, so strong. I couldn't swim and I was so scared, so worried. She looked right at me with those eyes…and she told me she loved me. She told me straight out. I heard her voice, sad and broken. And then I kissed her. I kissed her because I needed her and she needed me. I kissed her because I couldn't stand not telling her I loved her. And then the wave came over us and she kept me alive. But even as it came over us she kept kissing me. So that was…yours was better," I finish awkwardly.

But Elly shakes her head, her lips parted, still staring. "Oh, my God," she says. "Oh, my God…you…her…ready to die…about to drown…Ian, you really love her, don't you."

"Yeah, Elly, but I love you too," I whisper, ashamed of my own heart. God, I'm such an idiot, such…an…idiot…

Her eyes are so pained, so upset. "Oh, Ian…" she murmurs. "If only you knew." Her hair falls across her face as she rubs her arm and a spot on her back.

"That you love me too?" I say eagerly, allowing my hopes to soar.

But she only smiles wryly. "You can dream."

My hopes crash back down around me, shattering and breaking. Yep. Good Ian, letting myself fall in love so stupidly. Go me.

"You _would _do that," she says.

"Do what?"

"Ruin the walk," Elly teases, smiling at me. She's amazing at averting disaster. "God, I feel like I know nothing about you. Wanna play a game?"

"Oh, God."

She laughs, hard. "You're too funny; stop being funny."

"Stop being beautiful and you've got a deal." I blurt it out before I can stop myself.

But Elly looks flattered. "You…you think I'm beautiful?" she asks.

"Sure do," I finish, and she looks even more delighted.

"That means everything to me, Ian, knowing that I was pretty, then ugly, and now—beautiful, according to you." Her eyes shine as she hugs me tightly, grinning that heart-stopping grin. "Okay. So the game goes like this. It's called To Be Honest. I'm going to ask you a question. Rule one: you have to be honest. I don't like liars. I suggest you not lie."

I laugh too. "Okay. No lying."

"Rule two: if you pass, I win."

"Oooh, that _kills_," I say, and she nods, a satisfied smirk on her face.

"Passing equals instant loser. I've never passed in a game of To Be Honest before. Oh, there's one more minor rule. Rule three: you have to start each sentence with the words 'To be honest'. Easy enough, right?"

"Mm," I say, and she literally tears with laughter.

"You're the best friend _ever_," she gasps, clutching her sides.

"I know. I know. It's okay, it's okay, you're okay," I say, consolingly, making her laugh harder.

"Shut…up…you…are…going…to…kill…me…" she manages. I smile and shut up.

Elly regains her composure with a final "ha!"

"Ready?" she says, with the same evil smile as the day I first met her.

"Yeah," I say, almost afraid of what she's going to come up with.

"Do you miss 12?"

"To be honest, yes and no: yes, I miss the people, no, I don't miss the Peacekeepers, famine, and broken families." I sigh slightly. Then I give Elly her question: "What's the scariest thing that's ever happened to you?"

"I'll give you the second scariest, because I've got loads to tell you. The first scariest was part of one of my—actually, it _was_ the ultimate Worst Days. I swear I'll tell you the first one. But it'll be later.

"To be honest, the second scariest thing that ever happened to me was the doctor telling me I had cancer, which is a hair above the third scariest, which was when I woke up and I was literally suffocating because of the lung and throat cancer combo. It was like President Snow and the Devil himself had a baby."

"God, the first scariest must be…"

"…much worse," she finishes wearily. "Okay. Chocolate or vanilla?"

"Seriously?" I say, laughing.

"It's a serious question! Besides, I think we should stick to the easy-breezy-lemon-squeezy ones first. Chocolate or vanilla?"

"To be honest, vanilla. Something about the plainness comforts me."

"Okay, that's worth a _seriously_. Vanilla is comforting to you. Nice." She stops dead, throwing an arm out. "Turn left here. It's going to get dark."

"Dark…?"

I see what she means in a few seconds. The tiny cave opening between two boulders, just large enough for a person build like Elly to slip through, lies right ahead. And it is pitch-black.

"I couldn't light it up. Otherwise everyone would come flocking to it. I've seen plenty of valuable things the deeper down you go. But we don't have to go very deep at all to get to Otherplace."

I smile, trying to hide the nervousness. I happen to be claustrophobic and deathly afraid of dark, enclosed, cold, wet places.

"How deep?" I say, expertly hiding the overcoming wave of nausea.

"It's not the center of the earth or anything. No, about a minute downward. Don't fall. It'll hurt."

"Fun," I say confidently while everything blurs.

My manner: _Oh, not a big deal. I do this every day. God, how easy! That's all?_

My brain: _OH MY GOD IAN YOU'RE GONNA DIE GOODBYE WORLD YEP I'M DONE FOR WITH THIS NUTCASE WE'RE GONNA DIE IN A CAVE HOW FUN YEP LORD HELP ME I'M NEVER GONNA GET MARRIED_

Elly puts one foot in, readies her hands, and drops the other foot in. Holding herself up with her elbows, she says nonchalantly, "It's a bit of a drop, but it's really not a big deal. Maybe ten, eleven feet? I've got padding at the bottom. Well, I've got—er—scattered straw." She smiles, trying to ease my now-apparent trembles. "Just—try to land with your legs bent, otherwise you might—um—hurt yourself."

And she falls. I hear her land on her bent legs.

"C'mon down, it's okay, I'll catch you if you slip!"

"YOU CAN'T LIFT ME!" I burst, unable to control my fear.

"Yes, I can, I've carried things much, much, much heavier than you…" For a second it seems like she's fallen, because I hear a thud, a slight "oh, oh" and a sniff, but then she calls up, sounding like she's got a head cold, "Straw. I'm allergic."

I walk over to the opening. I can see Elly, her head bent as she sneezes. Well, I think she's sneezing…And I see a rough, makeshift pile of straw, hardly enough to support someone my weight.

But I drop.

It's actually quite nice, rushing downward, nothing to stop me. Although it only lasts a second or two, I feel invincible.

And then I land on bent legs, face screwed up in a wince, with Elly laughing like there was no tomorrow.

"You idiot, I was kidding! There's like three feet of straw here!" she says, through sneezes. "Let's get out of here, I'm gonna die soon." She holds out a hand, which I take grudgingly, and leads me out of another, bigger hole on the other side.

Otherplace is breathtaking. There's a crystalline river that runs amok, vegetation and wildflowers growing around it, birds and butterflies adorning the air. The trees, green as emeralds, sway lovingly in the light breeze. It seems warmer here than outside of the cave. A giant cavern is home to the cave, thirty feet off the ground, and I can see everything. But the few feet in front of me seem like inches. I cling to Elly's hand, but she only smiles. She pulls me gently toward a steep stone staircase that was built, obviously, as a makeshift for something that was never finished. Clumsily thrown together, it is full of cracks and missing steps.

"H-how?" I whisper, the earth vibrating.

_ "Just trust me."_

And I look into her eyes, her big, beautiful eyes, and want to kiss her so badly that I stumble forward…

…and I feel the nice feeling of rushing downward…


	9. Chapter 9

_Don't Look Back—Chapter 9_

**A/N: I am SO SORRY about lack of updates. That last chapter took awhile because I completely rewrote it. At first, it was Prim's POV again, and she had this really long nightmare that was totally off-point and random, and I really was just like **_**what is wrong with me **_**and so I invented Otherplace. Please, enjoy Ch. 9!**

Chapter 9—Interviewee

katniss wipes her eyes. "let's do this."

i smile for the first time in weeks. "thank you, katniss, thank you…oh, my god, i love you!" i attempt to get up but merely struggle for a second before collapsing, breathless, eyebrows raised at katniss.

she laughs nervously. "here. i'll go get the doctors to unbind you. stay happy." she winks, i laugh, and she leaves.

_i'm really going._

_ i'm coming to see you, ian!_

_ and we'll see how healthy your girlfriend is after i meet her…_

_ she's gonna get jacked up._

i bite my lip, hiding a grin.

but a second later i feel sad because on the news they've been following "victor's mystery lover". she's beautiful. she's witty. and she and ian are madly in love. i feel my eyes sting but flick the tears away angrily. she's prolly amazing. she's prolly genius. and ian's prolly head-over-heels for her. just like he said he was for me. but he lied.

_is the capitol making it up?_

_ are they trying to get us to 10?_

_ it's a trap, most likely._

_but what if it isn't?_

these questions turn themselves over and over and over in my head and i feel like exploding because the battle inside of me is raging. everything is different now that he's found a new person. someone better, someone much more beautiful, someone smarter, and i miss him.

i hate him and love him at the same time.

"prim! prim!" katniss calls gleefully. i furiously wipe my again-sodden eyes once more and call back, plastering a fake but convincing smile on my face, "yes?"

"you can get up now! c'mon!"

i stand up, quite pleased. i slip my legs off of the bed, stretch happily, and walk around, regaining feeling in my legs. i jump and twirl and don't even realize that there's a security camera until i see katniss, yelling for haymitch to keep the footage rolling. i pretend i don't hear her and keep running around like a little girl, the little girl i once was. before the games robbed me of my innocence and my happiness, when i was a little girl with a fragile heart and a strong one too; i think as i keep leaping across tiles, now playing a sort of random hopscotch.

"oh, primrose…" katniss laughs, joining me and twirling me around. we dance a sort of mad jig for awhile but are red-faced from laughing so hard. eventually i start tearing up and katniss clutches her stomach, still in hysterics. this feeling, of being with a person who i can _be sure_ loves me, is just amazing and gives me a sense of relief and security.

"let's go. i'm getting you out of here. it's so dumb," she says, her voice low. "the doctors keep telling me that 'i need a checkup'. i don't need a freaking checkup. they need a brain checkup." i giggle nervously. "oh, don't be like that. it's fine. they're just all idiots. all capitol doctors, of course, and _haymitch _requested the hospital. what runs through that man's walnut of a brain i will never know."

"i'm going to change out of this," i say, disgusted, looking down at the sheet of fabric that covers my body. "it's the most uncomfortable thing i've ever worn in the history of me."

"not to mention the ugliest," my mother chimes in, sticking her head in the doorframe.

i throw a shoe at her and she ducks, only to reemerge laughing. "you gotta work on your aim, missy." i only stick my tongue out showing defeat. "okay. let's get you out of here and to i—"

katniss clears her throat automatically and gives my mother a stern look.

"—to indigo's house," my mother finishes coolly. "surely you knew that?"

"who's indigo?" i say, slightly nervous.

"your auntie, _of course you remember her._" she also gives me a look.

i have no auntie indigo, so i am under the impression that it must be a trick.

"oh yeah, but why today, mom, can't we go tomorrow, i'm so tired…" i yawn widely and then give both of them a look. okay. there's way too much looking going on and i finally just take the bundle of clothes katniss has handed me and go into the bathroom to change.

she's given me…

a dress

a pink, short, light, flouncy, cutesy dress

oh my god

i pull it on, revolted, and then find something even worse.

a makeup kit, with light pink lipstick and eyeshadow and hair ribbons.

_ "katniss!"_

"you have to look presentable," she says, annoyingly stern, as i walk out of the bathroom, fuming. "you need to look girly and innocent. _that's what the capitol wants,_" she finishes loudly, her eyes darting up to the ceiling.

a camera, that's why we're hiding something, we're being watched. of course, now it all fits.

"you're giving interviews today. don't look at me that way, it's not my fault!" katniss says, as i groan and shoot her a dirty, furious look. "it's only a few things…just be honest…oh, and i forgot, your senses have been down since the jump. that's why things might be a bit fuzzy and dizzy right now, they're going to give you some medicine, i'm not sure when—"

and just as she says that, two doctors strut in—yeah, they're got nerve—and one, a lady with a face coated in white makeup, holds up a needle. i recoil instantly, but the man, who has shocking blue hair, only shakes his head.

"don't worry, dearest," he says. his is voice fatherly and incredibly fake.

it makes me want to actually jump into another river.

"it'll only take two seconds, and then you'll be in high-definition for your interviews today!" the lady smiles, her voice as bubbly as a shaken-up soda.

and then the lady is firmly grasping my arm, cleaning it with a cotton swab, and the man sticks the syringe in. it stings…

…but soon it's over and I feel refreshed. "Thanks that really helped!" I say, though still really annoyed. Bubbly Lady and Electric Man both beam at each other and burst into speech.

"Oh, no _problem, _cutie."

"It was absolutely nothing, nothing at all!"

"Don't go jumping into any more rivers, now!"

"Have a lovely interviewing day, and make sure to mention Larvae Shoemaker and Dervish Hoppers!"

And with that, Katniss comes in carrying my luggage and we're off to ASD-45, our hovercraft, nicknamed "The Guzzle" because of the enormous amount of fuel it requires.

"God, those doctors were annoying," she says as we walk over to the vehicle. She puts on a happy, squeaky voice. "Why, _toodle-oo, _Primrose, dearest dear dearie darling! Please mention Too-Happy McAnnoyingVoice and Perky LaughsALot at your next stupid interview! Don't try to kill yourself again, oh heck, do it again for all I care! More money for me! Idiots, every single one of them."

I laugh, and Katniss beams at me. "So, the convention…?"

"When is it?"

"They changed the date because of 'unfortunate circumstances,' which basically means you. It's in a month." She winks at me. "I really would love if we went. District Four is the perfect opportunity to get better on my fishing skills, plus a bit of foreign animal hunting, I wonder if they'd let me take a few Four-based fish, to breed at home—"

"Can't we just go and relax? You know, go to the beach, see the cities, and meet people at the convention, please?" I plead, not wanting to go fishing or hunting at all.

"I wouldn't worry about that now. You"—she looks around, then lowers her voice—"need to get to Ian, and we need Haymitch for that."

"Need Haymitch for what?" Haymitch says loudly as we reach The Guzzle. "I'd be happy to volunteer to watch all the rivers."

When the doctors said it, they were just joking. When Katniss said it, she was trying to lighten me up. But whenever Haymitch says something that's clearly supposed to be a joke (well, sometimes it is), it always stings, because with Haymitch, you can never tell. And right now he's obviously drunk.

"Shut up, Haymitch," I say quietly.

"Oho, _annoyed, _are we?" Haymitch says, delighted. "Poor little Primrose, away from _Lover Boy_—"

_"She said SHUT UP!" _Katniss screams, swiping at him. He takes it full on in the face, slamming into the wing of the aircraft. Nose gushing blood, he swears loudly.

"I didn't do anything wrong," he snarls, eyes narrowed.

"You did—you did," Katniss heaves, her eyes narrowed as well. "Lover Boy—Prim—oh, you—"

She takes another furious swing at Haymitch, this one landing square in the chest.

Haymitch stumbles backward, one hand drabbling in the blood flowing from his face. "Why are you attacking me, sweetheart?"

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" she yells, flinging the maps at him and storming up the hovercraft, tears in her eyes.

Haymitch turns to me, his eyes questioning.

"It's from the Games she was in…the Careers called Peeta 'Lover Boy'…I don't know why a reminder of Peeta would upset her, though…" But I step on Haymitch's foot hard and put my arm up to his neck. He stares at me blankly. _"If you ever—EVER—make fun of Ian again I will personally use you as tracker jacker bait."_

Haymitch actually looks fearful. He nods slowly, his eyes full of something I've never seen in his eyes before: pity. "Alright, darling," he says drawlingly, eyes still angry and pitiful at the same time.

I thrust my arm back from his body and look at him, hard, before turning dramatically and walking up the steps to find Katniss wiping her eyes gently. She puts on a beautiful smile as I sit down next to her.

"Impressive half-headlock," she says, her voice too calm. "I couldn't have done it—better myself."

"Thanks," I say, rather sheepishly. Then I switch subjects. "Is everything okay with Peeta?"

Her eyes dart to the window and back. "Yes," she replies stiffly, "everything's fine. What makes you say that?"

"Well—your reaction—to—to the whole 'Lover Boy' thing—I just thought—you don't usually let—let Haymitch—get to you like—like that…" I trail off, wringing my hands slightly, eyes searching Katniss's face. A single tear clings to her eyelashes.

"I swear I'll tell you later," she whispers, more to herself than to me. "I swear. Everything's okay, just…just let me…"

I get up and say mechanically, "I'm going to go talk to Cassia."

Cassia is the nineteen-year-old, cool, classy, gorgeous hovercraft pilot who is incredibly good at giving advice. I met her one day as she smiled, tossed her straight blond hair back, and said, "Hey, you wanna see how to fly an airplane?" I nodded and she actually took me into the cockpit and flew me for a half hour, pointing out different controls. She didn't even know me, besides the fact that I won the Games, and that I was Katniss's sister.

Katniss nods slightly, her braid falling across her shoulder. She blinks and the tear falls down her cheek as she stares out the window.

I walk a ways to find Cassia James sitting in the cockpit, painting her nails indigo.

"Hey, missy," she says in a very relaxed and not-afraid voice, considering that we're going to break into another district, kidnap someone, and fly back, unnoticed. "You doing okay?"

"No," I say miserably. "My sister's all depressed because of something that's wrong with Peeta; my boyfriend has a girlfriend; I'm debating whether to bring that girlfriend…Everything is wrong, Cassia, everything is wrong."

"Aww, not everything's wrong. I'm sure Katniss will cheer up, Peeta can handle loads. He's been in the freaking Hunger Games, hasn't he? She'll prolly brighten in a few days. As for bringing 'the girlfriend', I dunno. Do you wanna make Ian happy or be the only girl in his life?"

"Both sound tempting," I sigh, putting my hands over my face.

"Hey. Hey, you're gonna be fine," Cassia says consolingly, getting up and putting a comforting hand on the small of my back. Nipping by the fridge, she grabs me a soda and sits me down. "You're gonna see him in what, a week, is it?"

"Yeah," I sigh. Another thing postponed because of "unfortunate circumstances"; I basically delayed every event that was going to happen.

"And you're getting interviewed today, aren't you?" Cassia asks, making me groan.

"Yeah, are you going to watch it? They're airing it live at seven…god, they just won't leave me alone…"

Cassia's green eyes widen. "You're famous! I mean, not for something you'd like, obviously, but at least you're not selling chunks of goat cheese for food! You've got money now! It's a much better lifestyle, or, at least, easier!"

I shake my head. "It's not. It's not better or easier. Sometimes I wish I was back in my old, grubby house with Lady, next to Katniss and my mother and my father, smiling and laughing and hugging Father and Katniss as they came home from hunting, Katniss with a real, real grin on her face half a mile wide, Mother full of life, sweeping up the katniss tubers to make a fantastic meal, Father hanging his jacket on the back of his chair, complaining about the coal dust on his shaving mirror that I always cleaned, and then at dinner he'd sing 'Thank You To The World' and we'd all join in the chorus, the part where you say thank you to your family and friends and love, Katniss with her beautiful lower voice, my father's high clear voice mixing with my mother's misty, mysterious one, and my squeaky chirps to top it all off, and then we eat and it's really good, and then Father would sit us down and tell us stories, my eyes wide and Katniss's excitement evident, and that was when we were still so innocent, so lovely, so sweet…"

It's awhile before I feel that my cheeks are wet. Cassia has two bright red patches on her cheeks, looking horrified.

"Oh, my god, I'm so sorry, missy, so sorry…"

"Quite alright," I mumble, ashamed of my tears.

"Well, didn't you hear, I'm accompanying you to the interviews," she says quietly, still embarrassed. "Instead of Katniss, she's got an appointment or something, wasn't very clear on the instructions…anyway, I thought we'd go out for a late meal and shopping, maybe, to keep your cheerfulness levels up, d'you wanna?"

I nod happily. "Oh, yes, oh, yes, yes, yes, I'd love that!"

Cassia smiles and ruffles my hair. I beam at her. "Thanks for the advice, Cassia; I'll see you at six-thirty."

"Right-o," she says excitedly, giving me a thumbs-up and turning to the control pad as I walk down the hall, immensely relieved.

_**Three and a half hours later**_

Caesar Flickman's smile is so wide and bright that it nearly blinds me from offstage.

"Today, folks, as I'm sure you're aware of, we have a very special guest," he says in that deep voice that's actually not annoying. "You've heard of her in the news lately, and she's won a certain _competition…_ladies and gentlemen, I give you…_Primrose Everdeen!"_

I walk out, a huge smile on my face, waving.

_Haymitch's instructions:_

_ Be innocent, be happy, be enthusiastic, and get them to fall in love with you._

Since there were no tribute interviews last year (they wanted to make the families suffer as fast as possible), I have to give the crowd the right image of innocent, sweet little Primrose, as cute as her name.

My dress is a deep, midnight blue, covered in glittering rhinestones at the top and the bottom is flouncy and plain but beautiful. My hair is in my signature "Waterfall Ponytails" and I wear the same colored flats as my dress. The makeup makes me look young but still mature, with the darkish blue eyeshadow, the mascara, and the nude lipstick combining to make me look thirteen again. I begged Josephine and Logan to let me change outfits, and they convinced the Capitol that maturity would make it look less fake, as if the viewers would even be able to tell.

"I know what you're thinking, folks!" Caesar says, looking awestruck as I curtsey and sit down. _"Wow! _The woman of the hour arrives!" He gets up and pretends to bow. I laugh along with the audience, trying to ignore the cameras and the lights.

"What a welcome!" I say appreciatively. "I'm so happy to be here today, Caesar. Although the suit you're wearing clashes horribly with my dress…" I laugh again, drawing a big hoot.

"Well, an eye for fashion! I do apologize, in the future hopefully we will be able to coordinate our outfits more, yes, we will have to," he says with a grin, looking down at his electric red suit covered in glitter. "So! Where to begin? We didn't have the chance to meet, seeing as everything was big rush! Let's start with this: how do you like the victor lifestyle?"

I flashback to everything I told Cassia. But that's much too personal.

"It's amazing," I gush, doing exactly as Haymitch told me to. "My Victor's Village house is the most beautiful thing, although I don't deny I miss my old home just a bit. But having money for once…I wish I could thank every single person who made this possible!"

Caesar smiles, continuing, "How lovely, how lovely; rewinding a bit, what was your initial reaction to being reaped?"

"Well, I knew it was a Quarter Quell, but I had no idea what was going to happen. When they called my name, at first I was shocked, but never truly afraid…mostly dread, because I never wanted to kill anyone, ever…" I draw a breath. "I'm sorry," I say. "I just…I only killed one, and he was my ally for awhile…" I'm not lying. This is really quite heart-wrenching.

There's a collective "aww" from the audience as Caesar pats my back. "I'm sorry, darling, but look at you now! As beautiful as can be!" He smiles and puts a hand over mine. He switches topics, saying, "How is your dear sister, the girl on fire? Miss Katniss?"

"Oh, she's fine. We get along fine. She's a bit…well…between me and you, Caesar," I start, and then say in a very loud whisper, "she's a bit of a Debbie downer."

The audience giggles nervously. Caesar nods and winks, whispering in the same loud mutter as I did, "Our little secret.

"Alright, next question: how is your, and I quote, 'true love'?"

My heart and stomach both sink. "Well, I assume you've heard the rumors…" I decide to be honest. "I really don't know. His girlfriend is prettier, and smarter, and better than me. Ian—he doesn't love me anymore, as far as I know." Tears seep down my cheeks, and I try to keep my breathing even. My makeup, which must be waterproof, itches and the dress is splattered from my crying.

"Oh, my goodness!"

"What a traitor!"

"Teenagers these days, I tell you!"

The auidences' reactions are varied, from sadness to anger to pure hatred for the boy who I loved—and might still love—and I feel a horrible, terrible amount of white-hot triumph.

"I'm really sorry for falling apart, Caesar. I'm just a bit sensitive…love is powerful, you know."

And then I draw my eyes to the viewers. "Love is powerful, and heartbreaking, but really, it's insane. It can drive you to the brink of madness: from longing, from jealousy, from happiness, even from love itself. It's a force to be reckoned with. Love is either rock-solid or as thin as a hair. It either snaps instantly or holds fast forever. It either fits perfectly or will always be loose. Real love isn't 'oh, he's cute, I think I love him', it's 'he's amazing, he's wonderful, _he makes me happy_.' Love doesn't judge. Love doesn't snap. Love is perfect, except for the fact that it is insane. Insanity isn't necessarily a flaw, though. Insanity means losing yourself. It means forgetting who you are. And that can be good…or bad. The hardest part about love is that it can split. You can love two, three, four, loads more at once. It's tough, the decision. Should you take the funny guy or the romantic? Should you choose the sweetheart over the athlete? The real question is: does he make you happy? Of course, it could be a girl too, but love isn't gender-restricted.

"I thought I loved someone. Maybe I still do, I'm working everything out. I thought he loved me too. I really—I don't think so anymore. Not talking for two years has thinned everything out. I wish I could talk to him with all my heart. I just miss him. Distance has thinned us out, and I miss him like hell. I don't even know—I just—god—love is confusing. But you just can't resist loving love."

There's silence for awhile. I keep my eyes raised.

And then, there's a rumble of applause. There are viewers wiping their eyes, their noses, and even Caesar's looking watery. I smile warily, and Caesar lifts my hand wordlessly.

The cheers seem to last a lifetime. They go on and on, whistles and hoots and so—much—clapping. Effie is in the front row, screaming madly and applauding even madder. Her green fox-fur hat has fallen off, so her mint-tinged locks are visible.

"My, my…" Caesar chokes slightly. "That was beautiful, Miss Primrose…you miss him a lot, do you?"

"I do."

"Well, we have a surprise for you…"

He pushes a button and a giant screen unveils to the right of me, covering the wall that says _Lights! Camera! Action! Words with Caesar! Live at 7 every night!_

Ian's face fills the room.

"IAN!" I yell!

But he only moans and shifts in…what? What? Why is he lying on a hospital cot? Why is his head bandaged so severely? And why is his girlfriend grasping his hand tightly, staring at him with such intensity that she barely heard my yell?

"Oh, my god," I say aloud, and she turns.

It's Elly Opal.

I know her.

_I know her!_

_**WHAT IS SHE DOING?**_


	10. Chapter 10

Don't Look Back—Chapter 10

**A/N: More updates! Fun stuff! Okay that last chapter was really something. It was incredibly suspenseful at the end, huh? I like torturing people…enjoy Ch. 10!**

Chapter 10—Recognition

Elly's POV 

_Two days earlier_

"IAN!" I scream as he drops, yelling "ELLY! ELLY!" His arms flail madly and he scrapes the rock for any grips, anything, anything to hold onto. I'm frozen with terror except for my mouth, which screams "DON'T DIE DON'T DIE DON'T DIE" over and over and over and him yelling up at me "I WON'T I WON'T I WON'T" and we're both just shrieking and shrieking and no one can do anything and the lord knows what is running through his head as he falls down, down, down

And then he collides with the rock, actually bouncing upward once before landing again and I hear a snap and I start sobbing as I practically tumble down the stairs, thinking _not his neck not his neck please not his neck _as if that would somehow change the outcome.

It's not his neck, thank the heavens, because he landed on his knees, but they look broken and his spinal cord seems to have gotten some damage and that sends me into another round of mental hysterics as I start fretting about how to get him up the rough stone stairs.

But then, oh, then, I see something in his pocket. _A PHONE! _I see the code etched onto it and then two more codes. One, in scrappy handwriting, reads _primrose 4221 _and another reads _haymitch 0676_; I decide that his girlfriend might be a bit out of control, with her suicide attempt and all, and she might fly into tears and screams and I don't want her to worry like I am, so I punch in 0-6-7-6 and listen to the rings, the tears slipping down my cheeks as I prop Ian up and lay his head in my lap.

After what seems like a tiny eternity Haymitch picks up, his voice slurred and nearly incoherent.

"Whatta ya want, Ian," he says, sounding amused. "Girlie problems?"

"Haymitch, please listen: My name is Elly but that's not important. I'm Ian's—friend and he just fell off a huge cliff, and he's unconscious, and I need help. Is there anything you could possibly do to help?"

There's a pause as Haymitch drinks in the words like he would his alcohol.

"Please!" I say a more desperate edge to my voice. "Please, Haymitch, we need help!"

Another pause, a sigh, and a clink of a bottle. "I be over fastly, girl, and ya best be ready…what are the coordinates?"

_One day earlier_

"IAN!" I yell, pounding on the door. "LET—ME—SEE—HIM!" I struggle against the two doctors' grips, kicking and punching and screaming as I make for the door twice more.

"No, no!" the doctor says, her fake eyelashes hanging from her eyes, "he's unconscious, dear; you won't be able to—"

"I—DON'T—CARE!"

"He mustn't be disturbed, sweetie," the other doctor says, her wig askew. "He needs quiet."

"I'LL BE QUIET IF YOU LET ME IN THE ROOM!"

They look to each other, sighing, and in their hesitation I finger the doorknob and try to burst into the room, but this time a smaller hand takes mine and tugs gently. I look down angrily and see Diana standing there, her eyes full of pity, saying softly "It's no use, Elly, you won't help…"

"Diana, I need to see him, you wouldn't understand, you haven't—"

She turns to the doctors and starts to wail. "Please, please, please let me in, I have to see my brother, I'll be quiet, I'll be quiet, I promise…" And she wipes away pretend tears, sobbing incoherent words. I catch on and play along, saying, "I'm with her, I'm supposed to be watching her, I'm sorry."

"Oh…fine, go in, but one peep and you're out," the lady says, rubbing her forehead. "I just don't see why you'd want to talk to someone who can't talk back…"

"Why do you care for people who can't recover?" I ask softly, and her expression changes slowly.

"Because…they…" She cuts off, and then says peevishly, "Get out."

"I'm Elly Opal."

She gasps and then puts a hand over her heart. "Oh, my goodness…you…should've said…just…stay as long…as long as you like…"

"Thank you," I say curtly, and pull Diana into the room with me.

Ian lies there, bloodied and bruised, and I start crying again; Diana starts crying with me, and Ian rouses slightly.

"Oh, my god, _Ian_…"

"What's happened to him?"

I explain tearfully to Diana exactly what happened, from the stumble to the fall to my screams to his yells to Haymitch's slur to the hovercraft pickup.

"…and this is my entire fault, all my fault, I let him get too close, _I let him too far in_…"

Diana pats my hand calmly. I'm enraged by the fact that she was crying _before_ I told her everything but _afterward_ she's fine. I want her to cry with me again. She's the _only one_ who I told the whole story to. I don't even know why. I feel something about Diana, something warm and cold, something strong and weak, and it puzzles me. I need to be on my guard but at the same time I feel okay with telling Diana everything.

"It's not your fault," she says slowly, as though trying to put two and two together. "You didn't _let him too far in_, that's a bit selfish of you to think that he loved you _so much_ that even you couldn't control it. Love can always be controlled, even if you can only control it for a millisecond. Besides, you don't even know if that's exactly why he fell. It's probably not, you realize? Think of how stupid that sounds. 'He loved me so much he fell off a cliff.'"

"It's not—"

"Yes, it is," Diana says fiercely, "it really is and you are so blind by yourself that you can't see it. That's your flaw. You're conceited."

"Conceited—"

_"Think about it!" _she snaps. "Think! For a second, just think: maybe Ian didn't fall _because of you_. The world does not revolve around you. Ian does not revolve around you. You _like_ that Ian wants what he can't have. You enjoy it. _Ian does not love you and only you. _He loves someone else even more; I suspect he's just dreadfully lonely."

"I'm not _conceited—_"

_"LISTEN TO YOURSELF!_ You are beautiful and sweet, but you are _vain. _There are two types of vanity: those who realize it and either accept or deny it, and those who do not see it and cannot accept it, but will always deny it. You are a mix of the first and second type. You do not see it. You cannot accept it. You will always deny it. You must think I'm a right little liar, but I suspect you know the truth yourself, making you a mix."

"Rubbish—"

"See? You can't accept that I know something you don't. You cannot accept anyone being better than you at anything."

Diana turns and walks up to Ian, whispering words that my numb brain cannot register.

_You're conceited…the world does not revolve around you…not you and only you…denial, denial…a mix of vanity…_

Am I vain? Am I blinded by the thought of me as a pretty, intelligent, sweet girl? Is the vanity deep down or frothing over the top? I mean, I don't like being wrong, but who doesn't? I can accept defeat…I think…

"Diana…"

"It's the truth," she says, altogether unashamed. "It really is and it's time, much past time, you realize that."

I scowl at her, privately thinking of how wise she is for a little girl. It's a bit unnerving, really, that she gets everything that I don't. How many little girls tell you how conceited you are, and why? I mean, one might say "Ugh, you're so full of yourself," but never "You're a mix of the first and second types of jealousy". It's just not _natural._

"Prim…rose…"

I hear Ian's voice and everything comes crashing back to earth. _He's alive. He's alive…and…and the first thing he said was…was…Primrose…_

"I _AM_ CONCEITED!" I yell, sobbing.

Diana nods, looking sad, but still nods. "I'm afraid it's true," she says softly.

"It's—not—your—FAULT!" I scream, wanting to hurt myself. "It's my fault, all mine, every single ounce of it and you knew and you told me and I didn't believe you and it's me, all me, and I'm sorry Diana…"

_"Primrose."_

"SHE'S NOT HERE!" I shriek, so devastated by the fact that I was wrong about myself, who I really was, and I'm such a lying, messed up, fricking idiot that I didn't see it. "SHE'S NOT HERE, IAN, AND I AM, AND I SHOULDN'T BE, I SHOULD'VE BEEN THE ONE THAT FELL OFF A CLIFF—"

"Elly…?"

"YEAH, YOU IDIOT, IT'S ME, WHO ELSE WAS WITH YOU AT THE CLIFF?"

"Her…"

"Shut up and let him talk!" Diana whispers furiously.

"She…there…caught…no hurt…just…fire?" Ian becomes too weary to talk and I want to scream again and again and scream and make people hate me. I am dumb, I am useless, like the insignificant little white crayon that I am. That's who I am. A useless white crayon.

"I'm a white crayon," I whisper through quivering lips. "I'm a stupid white crayon."

"You just have to find someone who prefers black paper," Diana says kindly, and I vow to remember this quote forever and ever because it was the one thing that brought me hope again, these words from a little girl, a little girl who two seconds ago called me conceited.

"Black paper," I repeat, smiling slightly.

From that moment onward, Diana and I became allies, friends, even. After her screams of me being vain, I thought nothing of her, but two minutes later she told me I wasn't insignificant, only different.

Ian opens his eyes blearily.

"Hi, Reseda," I say quietly.

"Hi, Opal," he murmurs, and I laugh into his shoulder. He smiles weakly.

"I took some fall, huh?" Ian's smile is pained but happy, brighter than the sun in the middle of July.

I start to cry. "Oh, my g-good g-god, Ian R-Reseda, you better sh-shut up before I h-hit you, you inconsiderate d-dirtbag, joking at a t-time like this," I sob and laugh at the same time, and Ian laughs with me.

"I'm sorry, my charm seems to be stuck on 'make them girls go loco'."

I laugh so hard, still sobbing, that I collapse into a chair, breathless. "You are a _crapload _of a jerk," I say.

And then, then, something happens. Something indescribable, so indescribable, that it nearly chokes me, and I make a little "erg" noise, and I feel light-headed and blinded and warm and fuzzy and all I see are Ian's eyes, little emeralds in the rough, and I see his smile, untouched by injuries, just pure and whole and I hear him swearing through a window and I feel my feet pounding against the ground as I run over to it and I remember thinking _God can you not_ and then I yelled at him and I decided to be a little devil-girl and turn the charm on—selfishly, because I'm a messed up little earthworm—and make him come but really, really truly, he made me come, and I realize right then and there, in an armchair, messy-haired and tear-soaked, that _I am in love with Ian Reseda._

_Present_

"It's okay, Ian! It's just—just a nightmare!"

_"No…no…NOOOOO! PRIMROSE! ELLY! NOOOOOOOO!" _He yells, flailing, almost socking me in the face, and I squeeze his hand and whisper into his ear, my lips dangerously close to his, "I'm okay. Primrose is okay. You're okay. We're all okay."

He trembles a bit more, breathes, and stills with a final "no". I sigh. I want him to be awake. I want him to talk to me and make me laugh and make me cry and make me want to kiss him.

_Primrose. _Her name is beautiful, she is beautiful, and he loves her. Ian really does love her, I can tell. We never did finish To Be Honest. But I have a feeling if I asked who he loved more, he'd say Primrose. He did say he loved me. But I—I turned him down. It's the only unselfish thing I've ever done in my life. My whole life, everything selfish but this. Beating cancer for myself. Not my family, oh no, I had to survive.

And of course there's the other thing. The Big Big Big Thing, the Thing of all Things, the Thing that I can't even reveal to myself, the Thing that I should hate myself for but SELFISHLY I don't BECAUSE I AM A MESSED UP HUMAN BEING

AND NOW I FRICKING DO HATE MYSELF

GOD I AM A WORTHLESS WORTHLESS WORTHLESS PIECE OF CRAP!

"I'm sorry for being stupid, Ian. I'm sorry for being selfish. I'm sorry for being horrible. I'm sorry for being dumb. I'm sorry for being crap. I'm sorry for being jealous. I'm sorry for being someone I'm not. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, _I am sorry."_

I hear a sound behind me. Another nurse, prolly, and I'm sick of their "requests" for me to be quiet. I HATE EVERYTHING AT THE MOMENT ESPECIALLY MYSELF AND IT'S NOT GOOD.

"Oh, my god."

I whirl around to see myself on a screen, my ugly self shown to an audience of at least ten thousand, _Primrose Everdeen _with her hands over her mouth, and I REMEMBER THAT LOOK

"Elly Opal, I know you, I remember you, AND WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING WITH MY BOYFRIEND?!" Primrose says, horrified, and I feel like exploding.

"You—you—you—" I can't get the words out. "Capitol—you saw—oh—we were—oh—"

_"Oho! Looks like Primrose has some competition!"_ a sugary, fake voice exclaims.

Are we on a…talk show?!

_"I WANT ANSWERS!" _Primrose demands, but at this point I feel like fainting. "I'm sorry—he—fell—ohmigod—" Primrose seems to be crying and ifeelsososobad…

And then Ian stirs, opens his eyes, and starts yelling, and Primrose is yelling and they're screaming "I LOVE YOU HI OH MY GOD HI I LOVE YOU" over and over and I feel like an intruder so I back away but Ian says "no stay" and I have no choice but to sit and hear Primrose and Ian tell each other "I love you" over and over.

"I heard your voice and I thought I was dreaming but no Primrose I'm sorry I don't love Elly I love you I love you I LOVE YOU!" Ian says passionately, and Primrose is wiping tears of joy out of her eyes as she replies "I've missed you so much, so much, Ian, and I love you too more than you could ever know oh my god I love you I love you!"

_"Oh, look at the lovers!"_

"Hi, Caesar," Ian says with a grin, waving.

Caesar Flickman slides into view. "Hello there, Ian!"

"Sorry you have to see me like this," he sighs, and the audience laughs.

"You took quite a tumble, huh, Mister Reseda?"

"I did indeed." The audience laughs again.

"So, care to introduce your sister?"

Ian spots me and smiles weakly. "She's not my sister; she's my friend Elly Opal. Elly, meet Caesar and Primrose!"

"Odd meeting place," I say thoughtfully, regaining my composure. The audience chuckles along with Caesar.

"Quite indeed, m'dear! Well, that's all we have time for; I'm afraid, oh, no, dear, don't cry…" For Primrose's floodgates have opened.

She stops abruptly and looks straight at a camera somewhere else, and I see the love in Ian's eyes.

"May I say something directly to President Snow, perhaps?" she asks, her voice dripping with venom.

"Go right ahead, m'darling!"

"Do you see what you're _doing?_" she bursts, and my respect for her skyrockets, "Do you see this? Two people sobbing over a (insert-not-so-nice word here) SCREEN? I AND MY BOYFRIEND haven't seen each other personally in TWO AND A HALF YEARS! You are RIPPING lives APART! Let me SEE him, for GOD'S SAKE!"

And then she flounces right off the stage with a final "I love you" to Ian.


	11. Chapter 11

_Don't Look Back—Chapter 11_

**A/N: Hey everyone! I just wanted to thank you all for following my stories so loyally. I really, really love each and every one of you. Your support is unbelievable. **

**Also, I'm really not sure where to end this thing…how many chapters would YOU like it?**

**Enjoy Ch. 11!**

Chapter 11—Rescuing the Boyfriend Part Uno

Prim's POV

I keep my head high and proud, smiling smugly as I walk out of the studio; the earpiece that I've inserted is going crazy: Haymitch is _mad._

_ "YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE YOURSELF!" _he screams, slamming something down.

"I was," I say calmly, the trees waving at me. "I was perfectly myself. That's what I just did, wasn't it? I was still myself."

_"YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE PRETTY, DELICATE LITTLE PRIMROSE!" _Haymitch roars, so loudly that I have to rip the technology from my ear and hold it at arm's length.

"I was pretty, I hope, and I cried about three times during that interview, Haymitch."

_"YOU—YOU—"_

"Pick me up. We're busting Ian out of 10. Today."

My sudden change of topic bemuses him and then I can almost hear him arguing with himself.

"Fine," he snarls finally. I smile, satisfied, and sit down on a rock, the surface cool against my now-bare calves. I've pulled the dress up over my head. Instead of the lovely blue gown I wear comfortable denim shorts and a t-shirt that says _SUPPORT THE WAVE: THE 75__TH__ HUNGER GAMES_.

"Where are you, anyway?"

"Oh, for god's sake, Haymitch, you put a _tracker_ in my _arm._ You of all people know where I am." I put a hand to my forehead in exhaustion. Haymitch is obviously hungover and grumpy. I'm not going to get anywhere by being nice, that'll only annoy him further. So I decide to beat him at his own game.

"Hurry _up,_" I whine. "I didn't get shot in the _vein _for nothing!"

_"I'm coming! Do you realize how long it takes to pick up THREE people?!" _Haymitch yells.

I freeze. _"Three? _Haymitch, this is a solo mission! We can't get _four_ people in and out of a FOREIGN DISTRICT in a matter of hours! That could take weeks of planning! You idiot!"

I've stepped over the line now. He pauses, allowing the full measure of my words to sink in. "WhatDidYouJustSay?" he growls.

I take a sharp breath. "I said 'you idiot'," I mumble in the same tone of voice. God, here comes the explosion—and yet, it does not come in the force that I thought it would.

"Listen, darling. I'm not giving up my free time, my wellbeing, and my SKILLS to be called an IDIOT. I'm picking up your sister, honey, and Peeta, and you. Do you want me to come for you, sugarplum? Because I really don't have to, you know. I could call your sorry BEHIND an idiot and jet off and get Ian and you can stay. Do you want that, girlie? 'Cause that can happen and I don't think you want that, darling. I mean, if you do—"

"No! No, no, no, it's okay."

"Good. Now, I best be off and you best be READY!" He cuts off, the line going flat. I sit there in silence, my heart pumping, my hands trembling. When Haymitch gets mad, he gets scary.

_BUT THREE PEOPLE?_ Who? Peeta, me, and Katniss?

I mean, I can understand Katniss, since I did technically say she could come (well, she said "we" instead of "you"), and she's also very good in a crisis, not to mention her archery skills. Peeta, on the other hand…he's calm and a deep-thinker but the problem is he's not well equipped. He's got a limp. He and Katniss have obviously been through the mill. I don't think I can handle a breakdown, more tears, or even just another refusal. It's now or never.

And then I think of Ian and Elly and Elly kissing Ian and Ian forgetting me and running off with Elly and I think of how I know Elly and how she was really nice and beautiful and it makes me hate hate hate her and I want her gone, erased, nothing because (wow I'm despicable) I AM IAN'S ONE AND ONLY GIRL IN HIS LIFE.

And for the next half hour I miserably think of Ian's eyes and his laugh and when I kissed him.

A rustling of leaves and a gust of air makes me look up. My heart leaps. Haymitch is here!

He shoots me a terrifying look and touches down, the wind so strong I'm glad I don't have a dress on. Haymitch lowers the door, jumps out, surveys me with distaste, and says sharply, over the whirring of the blades, "Get in."

I don't have to be told twice. I bundle up my dress, carry my tennis shoes with me, and start toward the hovercraft. As I walk beside Haymitch, he grips my arm tightly. I wince, not because of my arm but because of the smell. Haymitch _reeks_ of alcohol, rotten food, and puke.

"Listen, Primrose," he mutters. "We need to _remain silent_ about this. It's not a day-long trip. It could take several weeks, considering we're spending at least two days in each district we touch down in, not to mention extra search time." I open my mouth to argue with him, but his tone of voice tells me this is serious. "Don't get short, snappy, or devastated. We don't even know if we'll find the boy, let alone get him out of there. I'm just warning you: no outside contact. We've got enough to worry about." He releases my arm and I shiver slightly.

The vehicle's door is sleek and it's emblazed with a large _C_ on it.

"Are we disguising it as a Capitol hovercraft?" I ask quietly.

Haymitch nods. "No more talk here," he mumbles, "we're not in the clear. We need to leave, _stat_."

I board the aircraft and instantly feel safer. There's at least four people in the cockpit, one of them Cassia. I smile at her and she grins back, tucking her hair behind her ears. She's lovely, really. "This is James to Arab, I've got a Situation 12, and we'll be touched for about 5." She sets down her microphone and headpiece and says, relaxed, "Hey missy, I knew you'd show up." She winks, and I laugh. "I'm the pilot of this mission." She makes little pew-pew noises, making me giggle further. "Don't worry, Mitchy, I'm perfectly capable of flying this bucket of bolts," Cassia explains to Haymitch's half-murderous half-amused look.

"My name is Haymitch."

"Sure it is, Mitchy. I'll need bottled water, thanks." She makes shooing motions to Haymitch, who splutters out "I'm not your servant!"

"I happen to be the _captain_ of this _rescue mission!_" Cassia says, over exaggeratedly, her eyes wide. A half-smile plays across her lips as she tries to keep from grinning. "You will _get_ me a _drink!_"

"Oh, and Mitchy," I say sweetly, "could you possibly take a shower, or hasn't it been a month yet?"

Cassia erupts into laughter and high-fives me gleefully. "Just a little joke, Mister Mitchy; it's good to keep things light around here."

"Yeah, yeah, we've heard of the 'Captain's orders only' rule, yeah, you…" His voice trails off, apparently unable to come up with a fine enough insult to dampen the great Cassia James's spirit. Haymitch leaves with a final "tchah!"

Cassia ruffles my hair. "You're the best," she insists. "And we're going to _get your man out of 10!_"

"Is it really going to take weeks?" I ask, allowing my hopes to soar. Cassia smiles sadly. "Not plural," she sighs. I sigh as well, although my hopes haven't crashed and burned yet. "Maybe…well…we're _hoping_ it won't be plural…" And then my hopes do fall, smash, and the pieces are too small to burn.

"God, I hate not seeing him," I murmur, and Cassia kisses my forehead. It feels so sisterly, so welcoming, and I realize that not everyone is against me.

"We'll get him," she says confidently. "Pilot Cassia James has never un-succeeded in a rescue mission!"

_**Later**_

"This is your pilot speaking, and THIS IS YOUR PILOT SHOUTING! Haha, pilot humor. Okay, this is CASSIA JAMES, everyone hear that? YOU NEED TO KNOW THAT YOU NEED TO CALL ME MS. JAMES OR MS. CASSIA OR EVEN MA'AM IS ACCEPTABLE! Also we're not crashing. That's good. And Primrose Everdeen, my FRICKING AWESOME assistant, is standing by with our records! TAKE IT AWAY PRIMROSE!"

"This is Asst. Everdeen speaking. The weather is looking clear, although we may run into some trouble with the high clouds. Remember: if you feel that _anything_ is wrong, please report to staff. We've been in the air for five hours, twenty-three minutes and we have had no problems, except for the reek of liquor in the lounge room (would Haymitch Abernathy report to Command Center?), and a bald eagle incident. Pilot Cassia James would like to add that no one has died—yet. _Shush, Cassia, you'll worry them! _I'm back; did anyone hear that, no? Yes? Ah, who cares, crap it. ANYWAY we remind you of our simple rules for a safe, easy, and unnoticeable flight: be polite, be wary, be friendly, be in the game, and be a reporter, not a bystander. Pilot Cassia James would like to add that you should try not to fall out of an open door. _Cassia! _Gen. Katniss Everdeen reports that there have been no signs of any Capitolite recognizing us. And the final note: dinner tonight will be pasta with meat sauce—and also late, due to the fact that a meeting of the leaders has been scheduled for five o'clock. Asst. Everdeen out."

"CASSIA JAMES IS BACK! I REPEAT, CASSIA JAMES IS BACK! AND I NEED TO LIKE, FLY THIS THING, SO, UM, YEAH, JUST DON'T DIE AND EVERYTHING WILL BE COOL! WE ARE ON THIS MISSION TO RESCUE IAN J. RESEDA, PRIMROSE'S LOVE, AND THE QUESTION IS NOT IF WE RESCUE HIM IT IS _WHEN_ WE RESCUE HIM! STAY ALIVE, EVERYONE! PEACE!"

Cassia sets the microphone down and turns it off. "God, I love this thing!"

"Yeah. You know, when your voice is already magnified, you really don't have to yell, Cassia."

"I'm excited!" she replies, smiling. "The adrenaline is infectious, isn't it? You're excited too, you little bugger." Cassia prods me in the arm, making me laugh. Cassia has this wondrous superpower that allows her to make anyone happy or make anyone laugh. It's amazing. She's amazing.

"So: tell me about this Ian you speak of."

"You know about it! We were reaped, we got sent to the arena—"

"No, no, no, wrong." Cassia shakes her head. "Tell me what he's like. You know, his interests, what you love about him, etc., etc."

And something strikes me but not completely: Cassia reminds me of someone. She reminds me of someone really familiar that I can't put my finger on. It's on the tip of my tongue. But I can't pinpoint it right now…

"Well, Ian's full name is Ian Thomas Reseda. He's fifteen-going-on-sixteen and his birthday is December 12th. His favorite color is white. He argues it's a color not a shade. What I love about him is kinda weird but not really: it's that he's mine. You know how you get the stereotypical 'personality' junk? Well that's not it. I mean, his personality is great, but you don't see all angles of anyone until they really open up to you, and Ian didn't really open up to me until after I told him I loved him. See, love is the great eye-opener. I wrote this poem a really long time ago, its super long but here's part of it:

_"blinded we are by jealousy_

_ ensnared we are by hate,_

_ smothered we are by vainness_

_ ye love will open the gate_

_ "_Kinda sappy, but you still get the picture. Okay, back to Ian: he loves snakes, always been fascinated by them. His lucky number is sixteen, I really dunno why. He hates school in general. He loves me. Obviously, but I mean, he really does love me, and that makes me love him even more. I like staying up late thinking about kissing him and seeing him again. I love Ian's eyes. And his smile can be cheeky, sweet, goofy, mischievous, and loving all at the same time and I love him, Cassia, I love him." My face feels wet and I realize I'm crying sad and happy tears at the same time.

Cassia hugs me and kisses my cheek.

And I hate hate hate myself for thinking this—but—she's a better sister than Katniss. I know Katniss volunteered for me in the reapings, and that she saved me, but since she's never really understood me. She doesn't do emotions and physical contact, only Peeta gets those, and she's always moody and she cries a lot now and she's not the same Katniss. And Cassia is lovely.

"Thank you," I whisper to Cassia, and she releases me and grins crookedly, her long blonde hair falling over one shoulder. Her eyes, gray as a storm cloud, twinkle excitedly. "Don't you worry, missy," she says fiercely, "I'm gonna make sure that Ian gets out. I swear. I swear, I swear, I swear: triple swear."

"Quadruple swear, actually," I say with a smile.

"Heck yeah!" she exclaims.

I smile and say "I really have to check on Katniss" and Cassia says "But of course" and I say "Thanks for being lovely" and Cassia winks and says "It's kind of a CassiaThing" and then I walk off, my brain overloaded with thoughts.

My phone buzzes.

_Ian's calling! _

I run to my bunk, throw the covers over myself, lay huddled in a lump, and answer.

"Primrose Everdeen," Ian proclaims.

"Ian Reseda!" I exclaim.

"I love you. Check your mailbox; it's got a _card_ in it!"

I understand immediately: he's send me something he doesn't want the Capitol to see. "I'll be right back!" I trill, playing along.

Inside of my mailbox is a card with a mushy image on the front of it. Inside is a lovely little message: _I love you, beautiful, and only you. I miss you dearly. You're always in my heart._

But something oily brushes my fingertips and I realize there's another message, in invisible ink. I grab the dimlight (instead of flashlight we call it dimlight because it shines black light instead of regular light) and shine it. You'd think the Capitol would be smart enough to realize they're being fooled. The hidden message: _They're tracking our phone calls. –Ian_

I feel a weight drop into my stomach. Two years worth of messages, word for word being recorded, written down, observed…

_ "Ian!" _I whisper into the phone. _"You shouldn't have!"_

"You got it?"

"I did." I feel my insides squirm again, and my throat burns with bile. I swallow and whisper croakily, "How's E-Elly?"

"She's okay. She's been reading to me in the hospital to keep me occupied. We're reading some book of poetry. It's really interesting. But…but none of the poems are as beautiful as yours," he finishes bashfully, making me love him a thousand times more. "Is everything okay?"

"Fine," I answer mechanically, still horribly aware of _Capitolite tracking._ "I'm fine."

"No, you're not. What's wrong?"

"Just—I guess—I have to go. I'm sorry. I'll tell you later. I swear." We're not going anytime soon (there are plans to be made, routes to be double-checked, and even weapon tests—we're not leaving for at least eight more hours).

"But—"

"I know, I know. I SWEAR I WILL TELL YOU. Just—please—don't call me. I need to go. I'm sorry. I love you. Bye, Reseda." I hang up and sob. I sob for a very, very long time. I must sob for at least an hour, because _I can't tell him anything, anything, because I'm sick with worry about the Capitol and also what if we don't find Ian, what if he's dead by the time we get there because maybe they know, do they know, OH MY GOD IF THEY KNOW…_

"ASST. PRIMROSE J. EVERDEEN, REPORT TO COCKPIT IMMEDIATLY."

I wipe my cheeks and run, run, run to the cockpit because I was supposed to be there for the Checklist meeting. I was supposed to be there a half hour ago. I was supposed to, but I was too distracted by Ian, too distracted by fantasies, things that I can never redo. Things that are over, things that cannot come back; I need to stop. _Stop living in the past. Stop missing him. There's a chance they know, a chance they have Ian, a chance he's already being tortured…_I feel my eyes overflow again and wipe my tears with the heel of my hand.

"ASST. PRIMROSE J. EVERDEEN, REPORT TO COCKPIT IMMEDIATELY. YOUR CAPTAIN IS WAITING."

I turn blindly, my feet with a mind of their own. _Step, step, step, step_…my footsteps sound odd, alien in my ears, echoing against the tile floor. I like it, although it makes my ears ring with the _pat, pat, pat _noise.

I know I just received this "tracking" information an hour and a half ago. I know I only formatted the thought of Ian dying, them taking him before we can reach him, an hour and a half ago. I know. I know, I know, I know.

But time, time is endless; time is inescapable, time is just—time. You are limited in your amount. When you enjoy yourself, it flies. When you hate everything, it slows. And it is slowing for me.

_We need to go faster._

I blink, and find myself staring at the words CONFERENCE ROOM emblazoned on a plaque beside a door. I pull the handle and with the smoothness of silk, the door opens for a virtually silent entrance. There is a wall that sets the doorway off from the actual room, so I can only see one vacant chair at the end of the table. I'm about to round and sit in it when I hear my name, and not just complaints—

"I'm a bit afraid, for Primrose's sake," Effie Trinket says, her voice still tinged with a Capitol accent. "What if Ian is gone? Dead? Tortured?"

"We know there's a possibility," Katniss reasons. "But for Prim, I think we should still go. If he's insane, or worse—she can handle it. I hope."

Her words burn the inside of my throat. _I hope. I hope you can keep it together too, Katniss._

"Where is the girl, anyway?" Haymitch demands.

"Oh, give her a break," Cassia snaps. "The SMs have been watching her; Ian broke the news. He called her. He's a clever kid, sending the message in invis. Although that's risky at this point; the Capitol should know way, way better, and that concerns me. Anyway. She knows about the tracking. God, if they know, we're toast. It's fifty-fifty at this point, fellows."

"We _know_ that. But with Lauren and Logan gone—well, we need to be cautious."

Lauren. Logan. Gone. They're gone. They're dead, and they were only fourteen. I remember them being lovers at twelve—that was their oddness. Their special little oddness. It was lovely. Young love is the best love, because it blossoms so beautifully.

"Who's the stylist now?" Madge asks. I forgot she was part of the crew. I think she's Asst. Weapon Overseer, with Katniss being Chief. "Portia? Cinna?"

"Both," answers Peeta. He sounds fine. He's Chief Sanitary Overseer. He also helps in the kitchens. "Cinna and Portia; we can only hope their new ideas for protective gear are successful—we can't afford to wait any longer. We move now, or we never move."

"True," Katniss says, agreeing, "but we need time to test everything, get things formed. I hear Cinna's been developing a fire-resistant material, and possibly an explosion-proof one as well. Portia's working on camouflage."

"Good. Good." Effie sighs. "My goodness, if they could hurry up with those weapons…we need _more_!"

"Effie. Listen. They. Are. Making. Them. As. Fast. As. They. Can," Haymitch says, slow and annoyed.

"I know that, Mister Obvious, but as Peeta so rightly said, we need to move now." Effie sniffs. "I understand that, above all, we need to get Ian out safely. If he is still alive, that is."

My stomach constricts, loosens, and tightens again. It's like the tide, coming in and receding, except the whole ocean inside of me. The Wave, they called me. The Wave was me. I was the Wave. But Waves crash, dissolve, and reform.

_What does that suggest? That I'm immortal? That's stupid! No one's immortal!_

"Primrose is weak. She's weak, admit it. Emotionally weak, physically weak, and mentally weak. She needs to train," Haymitch says loudly. "She's the weakest thing I've seen lately. A little girl."

"HAYMITCH!" Cassia yells.

"Please, do calm yourself, dear," Effie says, not unkindly. I hear jingles as she shifts in her seat, presumably, to snap at Haymitch, "She's fought off much more than you, if I recall. She won her Games when she was _thirteen._ That beats Mr. Odair by a year! 'A little girl', shame on you! She's fifteen."

"Fifteen is young!" he exclaims angrily.

A sigh issues from around the table. I decide to chance my luck and peer around the wall.

Effie's wearing some sort of icicle dress, with the great things hanging from her shoulders. It looks like someone shocked her, because her hair is also adorned with a headpiece covered in the spikes. Katniss picks at a cuticle, not even looking at Peeta, who glances over at her six times in a span of the thirty seconds I look. Haymitch looks enraged and bored at the same time, a magnificent feat. The last person at the table is Cassia. She glares at Haymitch while Katniss does nothing. This makes me feel ice cold. My own sister, uncaring of what Haymitch said about me. Cassia looks up for half a second, looks down, and does a double take. She's seen me. I smile halfheartedly and make a "please no" motion with my hand. She nods nonchalantly, which to someone else might look like a mere hair-out-of-my-eyes motion. I smile again and disappear behind the wall.

"I agree," Katniss says quietly, "with Haymitch. She should train; she's really fragile right now."

"Don't talk about her like that," Cassia snaps. "You're her sister. Act like it, you—"

"_Anyway,_" Peeta cuts across, sounding nervous, "I don't agree with Haymitch. She's strong. Stronger than you, I daresay," and I can only assume he's talking to Haymitch. A warm glow spreads within me. I've got two on my side.

"I vouch for that," Effie says. Three.

Who would've thought my sister wouldn't be on that side?

"She's weak," Katniss explains, "too weak to fight. Even for her boyfriend. He's probably dead. Someone should—"

There's a colossal CRASH. I look around the wall again to see Cassia have Katniss pinned to the ground. Katniss is face-up, staring at Cassia with wide, fearful eyes. Cassia spits hair out of her mouth. "Do _not_—talk—about—Primrose—that way. Love—you—fight—no—matter—what." Her breaths are uneven, hysterical. "Shut up shut up shut up shut up SHUT UP _SHUT UP!"_

Katniss mumbles something. Cassia screams in fury. "NO, YOU IDIOT! DON'T YOU EVER CALL HER THAT—AGAIN!" She actually slaps Katniss across the face. "EVER, YOU HEAR ME? _EVER!"_

"I hear you, alright?" Katniss says quietly.

"SWEAR!"

"I swear I'll never call Primrose a—a—a burden."

I can't help it, I burst into tears. I turn on my heel and leave the Conference Room. Someone calls my name but I really don't give a damn anymore.

Katniss was the only one left who I really loved, who I really knew cared. I knew she actually cared. She volunteered for me. She protected me. She helped me win. And I really loved her.

But now…

_Am I a burden? _

_ She volunteered for me. She could've let me die. So, if I'm a burden, why did she volunteer?_

_ Maybe…maybe it wasn't until after the Games I became a burden._

_ Am I a burden?_

"Hello miss, can I help you?"

I toss my head and raise my eyes to find myself standing in front of the information desk. A woman with sharp eyes and a severe hairstyle sits behind it. I clear my throat. "How big is this thing?"

It tumbled out.

"Well, it's quite big, obviously. About as big as a motel, I suppose. But the invisibility factors help a lot."

_A flying motel?_

"It's longer than it is wide," the woman says. "Rather like living in one long hallway that's twelve feet apart from the other side. Cramped, isn't it?"

"Sure."

I turn away; my mouth tasting like someone washed it with gasoline. I just want to plummet off this stupid plane and end my stupid life.

_Don't you dare try. Don't try to die again. Death is inescapable. Death will come. Remember what your maniac of a therapist told you._

I breathe in and out. In, out, in, out; inhale, exhale. Be calm, be calm. Everything is fine, you're not suicidal…

"I hate you, Katniss." The words need to be said. I can't shake the feeling. I hate her. Is that wrong? Hating your own sister? Yeah. Well, calling your own sister a burden is worse. I am not a burden. I am a burden. I don't know what to believe.

"I hate you."


	12. Chapter 12

_Don't Look Back—Chapter 12_

**A/N: That last chapter—whew. It was long, but it was the most fun I've ever had writing a chapter. I'm kinda struggling over making the rest of the story Prim's POV or still switching back and forth. All the action is on Primrose's side. So, for now, I think I'll keep it at Prim's. Or at least until they find or don't find Ian. Okay! Enjoy Ch. 12! DISCLAIMER: I don't own David Guetta's "Titanium".**

**(P.S. I might take a leaf out of Veronica Roth's book…)**

Chapter 12—District 3

Prim's POV

"_Okay, okay!_ I _get_ it!" I blow my bangs, freshly cut, out of my face impatiently. "I swear I'll never be absent from another meeting again, okay?"

Haymitch sighs angrily and rolls his eyes. "You're insufferable."

"Thank you."

Cassia bites her lip. I can tell by the smile tugging at her lips that she's amused. She tries valiantly to hide it but gives in with a laugh escaping her. "Oh, shut up, Mitchy. I've taught her too well." She throws her arm across his shoulders to annoy him further. He shrugs it off, annoyed.

"You were late, darling, and the meeting was as important as it could be, you realize that?" He leans in close. I smell whiskey on his breath and gag exaggeratedly. "Shush. Rosie, you can't just bend the schedule for you, you, and you. If you don't show up again, you're not going to be a part of this mission, do you hear me?"

I nod, putting a bored look on my face. Inside, I silently pray that I'm always early to the next meetings.

"Good. There's another meeting at noon today, and _don't be late._ Why wouldn't we want you there bright and early? You're such a _pleasure_. Especially at night, when we're all trying to sleep, aren't you, m'darling? Especially _last night, _right, Rosie, when we all heard your little screams?"

Cassia's face contorts with anger. "You shut up," she snaps, advancing forward. I grab her arm and try to pull her back. "No, missy," Cassia snarls. "Let me, just this one time—"

"Cass, you can't. It's okay. Don't stoop to his level." I cup my hands around my mouth and shout at Haymitch, "HOW'S THE WEATHER DOWN THERE?"

Cassia laughs, much too hard and much too harsh. Haymitch's face flushes slightly. "Pride, when overused, is dangerous," he says quietly and dangerously. I step back, a surprised look flickering over my face. Who is he to contradict me about pride? "Just watch your back, Primrose. You're a different person now. It's up to you to decide whether that's good or bad." And he slouches away.

"What. An. Idiot." Cassia scrunches her eyebrows. "Sometimes I just want to—" She makes a violent gesture in midair. "You know?"

"I know."

"Are you okay?"

Cassia has asked me that question at least twenty times in the last three days, since I was absent to the meeting. Her eyes are wide with concern, her brows still creased.

I nod and take a breath and say "Yes" at the same time. Cassia smiles sadly, the corners of her mouth lifting.

"Sure you are. Just be honest, missy." She pokes my shoulder. I poke her arm.

"I am being honest. I said I'm fine. I didn't say how fine I was. But I'm pretty fine." Cassia grins and prods my back.

"I knew you'd make it out alive. Y'know, sometimes you just gotta run, and don't look back. Just gotta run till there's nowhere left to run to. Don't ever look back. Don't look back."

I nod and smile, but for some reason tears well up in my eyes and I have to walk away.

_Don't look back?_

_ What does that mean, really?_

_ I'm just supposed to forget everything and never dwell on it?_

_ I need to let go of the past?_

_ I have to keep going?_

_ What if I can't?_

_ What if I have to look back to find the future?_

_ So I've got to keep racing along, never stopping, just flying through everything?_

_ What about all of the amazing things in the past?_

_ Ian and Father and my relationship with Katniss, what about those?_

I let a few tears escape. They fall onto my palm and glitter there, tinged a pale beige. It's been proven that there's no reason for humans to cry when they feel strong emotion, it just happens.

A lot of things just happen.

And then I think of Ian, again, and how the Capitol took him from me. The Capitol just took him, because they didn't like what we were doing. The codes, they didn't like the codes. I can see them allowing Finnick Odair or Cashmere or Gloss, but since I'm Katniss's sister, they were looking for a reason to get her. And they got her through me.

_I'm criticized, but all your bullets ricochet._

The Capitol keeps shooting and shooting but they'll never, ever make me stop.

_You shoot me down, but I won't fall, I am titanium._

I am stronger than they are. I am stronger because I am still vaguely human.

_Stone hard, machine gun, firing at the ones who run._

I have to stay and fight. I can't run away.

_Stone hard, bulletproof, glass._

I am strong, but I am fragile. I am glass, but I am bulletproof.

_You take your aim, fire away, fire away._

Let them fire, let them waste precious bullets attempting to destroy me. They can't.

_Cut me down, but it's you who have further to fall._

Oh, let them try to slash at me. They're just going down at the end.

_Ghost town, and haunted love._

I am a ghost, living in a deserted place with few others. I am reduced to nothing but my soul and my haunted love. They took everything but my love.

_Sticks and stones may break my bones._

Let them say what they want to say. I really couldn't care less.

_I am titanium._

I am strong.

**Meeting**

"We're touching down at District Three in about four hours." Cassia grins.

"Why did it take so long to get to one district?" I ask, slightly frustrated.

"Well, security measures, safety tests, the usual pish-posh," Effie says with a smile. "It was all for you, my dear. Primrose, don't you want everything to work properly?"

"Of—of course I do," I snap. "But if we don't _hurry,_ they could figure it out. They could figure all of this—" I wiggle my fingers and spread my arms, "—out. It could all crash and burn if we waste time."

Haymitch grunts. "But if we go too fast, everything could fall away."

"You don't think I know that?" I ask, raising my eyebrows. "I do. We can't go too slowly, but we can't go too fast. We just have to 'mediocre-it-up'."

Katniss smiles at me, and every time our eyes meet it feels like I'm being stabbed. A burst of anger, a burst of hatred, and a burst of sadness flash through me. I want to strangle her. She wrecked me.

Cassia clears her throat, looking serious. "Okay. Listen up, everyone. I've gotten word that there's a traitor on our aircraft. We don't know exactly who it is, but we found these scattered around a hallway." She holds up some scribbled-on, crumpled pieces of paper. I recognize them. They're plans, facts, things to leak to the enemy. I clap my hand over my mouth.

Effie looks stricken. "Surely not one of us, Miss James—"

"Oh, it's one of us." Cassia's eyes fall on each person gathered in the Conference Room, prying, wondering. They're unavoidable, with their bluish-greenish-mostly-bluish mix, and they're dangerous. They want answers. "And I've got about three people investigating. Whoever you are, you aren't getting away that easily."

Katniss sighs. "I seriously doubt there's a _traitor_ onboard, Cassia."

Cassia gives a little "huh," obviously not surprised and yet, annoyed and triumphant. "You wanna bet, Katniss Everdeen?" She holds up a card. It's completely unordinary, except for the fact that it's soot-black and mangled. Normally it would've been white, probably, and paper-thin. Someone obviously destroyed it. I don't see why, until I see a frayed wire poking out of the side. A bomb; it's a tiny, virtually ordinary thing, but it's clever.

I moan and grip the table. Somebody's trying to sabotage me meeting the love of my life; somebody's trying to keep me from Ian. Cassia gnashes her teeth in discomfort and shoves it at Katniss. "An explosive, Miss Everdeen, it's highly dangerous and highly camouflaged. Someone snuck it into the cockpit and put it very cleverly in the written test records, where _no outsider could possibly have access._ It's one of us."

Katniss looks stricken with rage and with fear. "You mean someone's trying to ruin Primrose?"

_You ALREADY have, Katniss!_

"Yeah, Katniss," Cassia says viciously, her eyes flashing. "Thank you for your consideration."

My sister recoils slightly, flinching, and I know it's because she remembers those exact words. But she recovers instantly, and says, her voice firm and angry, "I'm glad you're actually looking for the culprit instead of attending our meetings. We wouldn't want to waste time, now, would we?" She smiles sweetly, a face that doesn't match the tone of her voice. It's Cassia's turn to flush red with anger.

She advances toward Katniss, and in a flash I'm up and over the table, in Cassia's way, my arms outstretched. "Don't," I mutter. "She's not worth it." Cassia looks at me with a mixture of hurt, love, and anger in her those bluish-greenish-mostly-bluish eyes.

Katniss doesn't hear me (as planned), so I decide to play the I-love-you-so-much-sister game. "Please, don't hurt her, she's my sister!" I plead, as fake as I can. "Please, Cassia, just back off. Please."

Cassia gives me a long look, blinks, winks quickly, and blinks again. It's so fast I hardly catch it, but I do. I flash a quick smile and avoid Katniss's eyes and small grin. I feel my heart break and harden at the same time.

"Okay, okay, fine." Cassia gives a convincing sigh of frustration. "Just tell her to shut up. I'm the captain."

"Because I didn't know that," Katniss says scathingly.

"Break it up, ladies," Haymitch says, an amused look crossing his face. "I'd rather you not spill my wine."

I roll my eyes and cross my arms. "So—a traitor: do you have any leads, Cass?"

Katniss closes her eyes. She doesn't like me calling Cassia "Cass" obviously. This fills me with a fierce rush of pleasure and I smile encouragingly at Cass.

She flashes me a halfhearted grin and begins. "This person would have to have a good knowledge of the cockpit, and they'd have to know where the private—PRIVATE—written flight and weapon test records, and they'd have to be very sneaky, very clever. I guess that rules out Katniss."

Katniss opens her mouth furiously to respond but Effie makes a "shh" sound and turns to listen to Cass talk. Cassia continues, more serious. "All I know is it could've killed anyone within one hundred feet of it, and it could've seriously damaged the left wing and engines. Thank _god_ one of the crew members, Thomas, was shifting through the records that day, for some weird reason only he knows of. _T! _Could you come in here, please?"

A boy who looks about two or three years older than me steps into the room.

I have to remind myself of Ian to keep from swooning.

His eyes are light blue with blue rings around the outer iris and inner iris. His hair is a curly-ish bronze-blonde color, and his smile creates the cutest dimples I've ever seen. Cassia sees the look on my face and I realize that my cheeks are warm. "This is Primrose Everdeen, Thomas. Primrose, meet Mr. Thomas Lithe, who prefers to be called—"

"T. I'd like you to call me T," he says, his voice higher and sweeter than I expected. It makes him seem more—realistic, and it adds to his natural charm. I smile. "Hi, T," I say, smoothing my hair back. "I'm Prim." _I'm Prim? What are you, an accountant?_

"Hey." He smiles shyly at me and turns to Cass. "Whatcha need, Cassy?"

She shoves him and smiles. "You know." Cassia flicks his forehead, making a small part between his bangs. "He's my brother," she explains to my puzzled look.

"But his last name is Lithe and yours is James," Haymitch points out with a belch. Something flashes in Cassia's eyes, something vulnerable and hurt and broken. I realize something must've happened, something terrible, something she can't explain in front of so many others who won't understand with their empty words and pointless apologizes. I know what it's like. After Father died, I got a few letters from his fellow miners, the ones who he charmed with his constant cheeriness and beautiful voice, singing as he mined. _I'm sorry he's dead. _Sure you are. So am I. You're sorry. Great, but what's that going to do? _What a terrible tragedy. _No kidding. _I'm praying for you. _Not working, bud.

"I'm aware," Cassia responds simply, bringing me back to the present. "Proceed, T."

"Well, I was shifting around in the records when I heard this really weird _tick tick tick _noise. I saw this little, inconspicuous little white card disguised as an access card to the cockpit. I thought, _is it malfunctioning_ until I saw a little wire. A blood red wire poking out of the corner, skinny and fragile, and then I realized: _BOMBBOMBBOMBBOMB. _And I just went screaming to Cassy here, waving it above my head, not thinking, obviously. She disabled it about three hours to explosion time. God, it was scary. I was holding something that could destroy me—and my friends and family—with a final _tick. _And that's how I got upgraded to Asst. Security Manager." He grins, and my heart flutters like a butterfly wiggling out of its cocoon. I smile faintly at him.

"You saved numerous lives, T, not to mention the mission itself," I start slowly, connecting all the dots, "but why were you _shifting around in the records?_" I bite my lip, holding back accusations. Never—ever—accuse a cute boy of possible flight sabotaging/homicide.

T meets my eyes, and I feel the full weight of the meaning of eye contact. "I've never had a pretty girl call me a murderer," he says with a waning smile. "I was…looking for my previous grading on my flight test. I dunno why, I just wanted a reminder of the good old days."

The moment of hesitation is missed by all but me and Katniss, I can tell. We've been trained to notice deception. Peeta, however, simply shrugs and slings an arm around Katniss's shoulders. Her eyes whisper thank you to him and his eyes whisper I love you. I wonder if Ian's ever looked at me like that.

T called me pretty; I didn't miss that. But this is a mission to _save my boyfriend._ I can't flirt with one of the _crew members!_ Plus _I love Ian Reseda. _He's the love of my life. He keeps me sane. He kept me alive, for god's sake. I met T fifteen minutes ago. I can decide if he's cute or not, but I can't decide if I love him. I loved Ian from afar for a very long time. And he never took notice, not that I know of. But now he has, and I love him. I love, love, love him, no matter how girly or corny that sounds. And now I've switched from being sweet to being firm with T.

"It's awfully suspicious, you just poking around in the records. No, Cass, let me finish," I add quickly, as Cassia opens her mouth, looking slightly sour. "Let's call our murderer/sabotage-guy something secret. My suggestion is XX. They've tried to do two things: kill people and ruin our mission. XX. Two strikes. One more and they're out. One more piece and we'll know. We've got two pieces of evidence so that also corresponds to double-X, plus it sounds really action-movie super-spy cool."

"Whattza senuh piez fa vidense," Haymitch slurs, a question turned statement. He's drunk again. Great, he won't remember a thing. Someone should really stop the wine flow. I'd like to see him find some other type of alcohol to annoy us all.

"The second piece of evidence, Mitchy? You know, you examined them yesterday! My god! The plans, you idiot, the _PLANS_ that Cassia found," I explain blearily.

"Whattza pan?"

"Oh, my god, why am I even bothering? You're drunk. I can say whatever and it won't register."

"YOU PIECE OF CRAP!" Cassia says gleefully, the entire (tiny) amount of surliness gone. She starts cursing at Haymitch, taking her opportunity to tell him how she really feels while he can't understand her.

"Now, Miss James, you shouldn't be swearing. It's not much of becoming a lady."

"As if I care about being a lady. I just wanna have fun and enjoy the ride. I'm never lookin' back, Effers, never." She winks at me and throws an arm around my shoulders. "Don't you ever worry about me, missy, I'm gonna stick around and annoy you for a long, long time," she whispers, her greenish-bluish-mostly-bluish eyes brimming with happiness, as if I'd suggested her moving or dropping out.

I smile and say, "Awesome."

**Late at night**

I turn blearily toward my alarm clock. It's one in the morning. God, I can't sleep without falling victim to nightmares, cold sweats, and screams. I keep dreaming about the aircraft crashing, Ian dying, Cassia vanishing, anything and everything that could go wrong…

I groan into my pillow and flip on my back, bundling up the blankets, sweating like mad. Am I getting the flu? Maybe that would be best, getting the flu, so I could take awhile off from the stress, the worry, the responsibility that's been upended on my shoulders.

"Why does it have to be this way, Ian?" I whisper into the night. He can't hear me. I know he can't. But talking to him makes me believe he could be here, next to me, smiling and laughing and making me feel light and bubbly, like I can't do wrong, like I'm perfect, flawless, unbroken…

Unscarred…

Bright…

Lovely…

_I'm falling._

_ I'm falling off a cliff, the wind rushing past my ears. I look down at the nearer ground, waiting for the fear to kick in, but all I can do is shake my head and smile slightly._

_ How funny, knowing I'm going to die, but not fearing death. Death is just an equal. Death is just an existence. Death—however strongly you resist—is inevitable. _

_ And then I have wings. I have beautiful, feathery, flawless wings. I am flawless. I am light. I am radiant. I am perfect._

_ I flap my wings like I have had them for years. The clouds above my head open and I enter a type of paradise. Ian is there, Katniss is there, Cassia is there, Peeta is there, T is there, and even Haymitch and Effie are there. Elly is also there, and she embraces me like a sister. _

_ "You've done so well." Her voice is joyful, slow and serene._

_ "Have I?" I bite my lip. "I don't know. I've done so much wrong." All the insecurities come flowing back. I visibly see them reappear on my skin. They're words. They're words off all of the things I've done, all the things I've preformed. My arms are soon covered with the words "deception", "jealousy", and "hate". My legs attract letters that form words like "bullying", "self-harm", and "gossip". And finally, my cheeks and forehead and lips are coated with words. "Selfishness", "refusal", "stubbornness", "neglect", and "shame"._

_ But I am unashamed to be naked, unashamed to be bare in front of others. Elly only smiles._

_ "You see only the bad, Primrose. You must look past the haze of wrong to see the stars of right."_

_ She takes my hand and smiles, and I feel something I haven't felt in a very long time. I feel true friendship as I stand here, covered in ugly words, while she is clothed in pale pink and sprout her own reddish wings._

_ And the insecurities disappear, to be replaced with words like "inner beauty", "care", "forgiveness", "self-care", "selfless", "noble", and, the biggest of all, "bravery and love" entwined, and Ian steps forward. He is radiant. His green eyes stand out, and they are all I see._

_ "You've done it, Primrose." Ian is whole and undamaged and I whisper, "I love you, Reseda," and he says "Don't whisper it, let them know" and I am yelling his name and "I love you" over and over and over and…_

_ …I am an angel and he is an angel and we—we are lovers._

_ He kisses me, and it's real and rich and perfect and when we unite, the insecurities flow from our skin and join, and the words appear once more, and they all spell love._

_ We kiss for awhile, and Elly is grinning at me and she takes my left hand and Ian takes my right, and Katniss squeezes my shoulders and I feel no hate toward my sister and Peeta twirls me around and around and Effie is actually happy, not in that stiff manner of hers, actually gleeful, and Haymitch is sober and cracking jokes and Cassia laughs and puts me on her shoulders, and we triumph into the sunset, united._

I sit up in bed, smiling.


	13. Chapter 13

_Don't Look Back—Chapter 13_

**A/N: Hey all—soccer season's officially started, and that means practices. So, unfortunately, my writing time has been cut short. THAT DOES NOT MEAN I WILL GIVE UP! This is going to be a long, dramatic, AWESOME sequel! Peace, and enjoy Ch. 13!**

**(DISCLAIMER: I OWN NONE OF THE SONGS ON THE CD!)**

Chapter 13—Elly and Prim

Ian's POV

"Primrose, where are you? Why won't you call me? Please, please tell me you're okay. I swear, if anything happened to you—" My voice breaks. "I just need to hear your voice. Please times three million call me back. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you so, so much. You mean the world to me. Bye, Primrose."

Elly pushes my wheelchair forward. "I'm sure she's fine," she says quietly, more to herself than me. "I'm sure."

"Did you…know each other?"

Her face hardens. "Why would you ask something like _that_?"

"During the interview, Primrose said 'I know you, I remember you'. You know her, presumably from awhile back. What happened?"

Elly takes a deep breath and stops my chair in the courtyard, next to a bench. "We were little girls, about seven or eight. Her father had _just_ died. My father was good friends with him; he worked with him in the mines. And oh, my god, it was so, so lucky he had the flu that day…if he hadn't been sick…" She puts a quivering hand on her forehead. "A-anyway, we became best friends, right after he died. She was always so nice, so peaceful. I was always a little jealous. All the boys adored her, all the girls loved her, all the teachers praised her. She was never cocky, oh, no, just quietly doing what she did best: charming people. I can't remember a night where she wasn't over at my house or I wasn't over at hers. We were inseparable.

"And then I moved. I moved about an hour away, out of the Seam. It broke both Primrose and I. We exchanged a tearful goodbye and promised to visit whenever we could.

"It turned out…we never could. My mother and father…they're dead now. They died two years ago, in a Peacekeeper…a Peacekeeper incident. Primrose was gone. She was erased from my life forever, but I never forgot about her.

"Then she was reaped. I remember breaking down in tears as I read her letter… 'I'm scared, El, I'm terrified'… 'I'll be dead by next week'… 'Don't let Katniss and Mother get down, please'… 'I'll never, never forget you, El'… And then she won. And everything was perfect. We were reunited for one, perfect week. We had a blast, staying up all night, blasting music, eating junk food. She told me all about Ian Reseda, how adorable he was, how much she loved him. This was when you went on vacation for a few weeks.

"And then you were relocated. She fell into a horrible depression. I remember her sad, dark letters. She seriously considered suicide, you know, she said she didn't want to live in a world without you. I begged her and begged her, and she never committed the s-word, so I guess I broke the barrier, but not completely. She joined this group—'The Sleaziness'—of junkies, and she was one of them. She told me she really 'fit in' with them, and then we exploded. This huge, huge fight took place. I told her she was being stupid. I told her I was her best friend; she could fit in with me. I told her to go tell the group—and I said these exact words—to f-bomb off. That made her extremely angry. She told me she never had fit in with me, because I didn't know how to deal with her. She told me we were polar opposites and she told me she was staggering under the weight of her own depressions. I just hung up.

"I shouldn't have hung up. I shouldn't have hung up. But I hung up on our phone conversation. I was just—I was just done. But she wasn't, and I wasn't there for her. And that's where we stand now—I'm the guilty one, Ian, it's my fault."

I just sit there, taking everything in. "So—you two did know each other."

Elly sighs. "Mm-hmm," she murmurs, staring out at the clouds in the distance. I close my eyes, trying to imagine a young Primrose and a young Elly, chasing each other around, giggling and just being all-around best friends. It's hard, thinking about a little, innocent Primrose, an innocent Elly.

"Do you ever just feel like trash, Ian? Just like, complete rubbish?" Elly stares at me with those wide, sparkling eyes, and for the first time I see some things in them: love and happiness but also heartbreak and sadness. "I do. I always do. I really am a vain, cold human being."

"No you're not," I say quietly. "Guilt isn't something that vain and cold people feel. Forgiveness isn't something conceited and icy people experience. It's something that humble and warm people who have made mistakes feel. I'm not saying you're perfect, because you're not, Elly, and you know that too. I'm saying that your imperfections make you lovely." I take her hand. "I'm glad—"

"Ian, listen. I think—I think I might—I think I might love you." Her eyes remain steady, her hands don't shake.

"I love Primrose," I say softly, and it breaks my heart to tell her. "I love her. I love you too, Elly, and I used to love you romantically, but I love you friend-like, Elly. I don't want to lose that, ever."

She sighs and smiles slightly. "I know that. My restrictions—" She stops suddenly. "For m-myself, of course, don't allow me to date. But…god, Ian, you're above every one."

My face feels hot. "That's…nice."

She grins. "Boys, they don't know how to respond to anything. I hope you're never on a debate team."

I kiss her cheek, to try and make her feel better. I give her the wrong idea, and she shakes her head. "No. Don't." She closes her eyes. "Don't make this hard," she whispers.

"It's always hard," I murmur in reply. "That's how it's supposed to be."

A strange look crosses her face. "They make it hard, sure. But people like Primrose, and you, make it easier. You make me feel like the weight of the world isn't about to tumble down to hell with me." Her eyes are glinting. I like her eyes. They are a wonderful, comforting brown. "If you and I can't be together—er, don't want to…at least we can be friends."

I smile. With Elly, there are too many smiles to count. With Primrose, there are too many laughs to count, too many kisses. Each is wonderful.

"I'd enjoy that, Eleanor."

"Don't call me that," she says with a shudder. "Sheesh, dude, that's not even my real—real legal name."

"Your real name is Elly? Wow, so Eleanor is like…for long, then?"

"I guess, yeah. Although 'for long' isn't a real expression; don't try and warp 'for short'."

And she leans in, just like that, and kisses me. Her lips are rough, chapped, and fierce, and when they meet mine, I can almost see sparks. Her eyes close, and her lashes are black and long and teardrops cling to them. She's crying. I've never seen Elly cry. If I did, I don't remember it. I stare at her, unable to pull away due to being forced back in my wheelchair. It's lovely, though gut-wrenching, kissing her, feeling the electricity and energy, so pent-up, being released from both of our bodies.

"Elly," I whisper against her kiss.

She murmurs something, something like "please". So I let her kiss me. I let her. How cruel I am. I don't kiss her back, I let her kiss me. I make no effort to show her my affection. I can't, because of Primrose. What she would think…

"Elly!" I am sterner; I want to stop. "No. I'm sorry. No."

Elly pulls away, her eyes broken and breaking. "Ian…maybe if we gave it a chance…"

"No, Elly, we can't give it a chance!" I am frustrated. She knows I have a girlfriend. She knows I love my girlfriend. She needs to stop.

Her face hardens. "I forgot about _precious Primrose._ I'm sorry I don't fulfill expectations."

"You do, it's just you're too late. An hour ago you told me about how much you missed her! Less than an hour, even! You and I…there can't be an 'us'. It's always going to be you and me, _friends. _Why can't you understand that, Elly?"

"Maybe I allow myself to _hope,_ instead of panicking about my girlfriend! Maybe I let myself dream and love and be free. You're too constrained, you—you—you—" She bursts into even more tears and sprints off, leaving me alone, beside a cold, wet stone bench as it starts to rain, wondering what just happened.

Prim's POV

"So, we're in what district right now?" I ask, trying to be as formal as Haymitch, for once.

"District 7: we're hiding out here. The thick forests give us some cover."

The question that's been burning inside of me pops out: "Why didn't we get him?"

Effie turns toward me. "That's what we're trying to do, darling."

"No, while we were in the Capitol."

Haymitch sighs impatiently. "Do you really think we could've invaded the hospital, grabbed a severely injured Ian, gotten him to the hovercraft, and gotten out of there without being killed? We were unprepared, and plus that would have been the obvious thing to do. We're aiming for surprise."

"Oh. Okay, thank you."

Haymitch eyes me suspiciously. "You seem tailored."

Cassia rolls her eyes. She's in a bad mood; she's upset with her seat, next to Katniss. "Of course she's tailored. It's a serious meeting." She glares at Katniss, who is drawing an arrow on her paper. _"Ahem._ Katniss, care to join in?" I can feel the anger radiating off of her.

Katniss shoots an icy look at Cass. "I'm listening, but nothing you say could be of importance, now could it?"

"That's it—"

"Okay, seating change!" Haymitch says loudly. "Cassia, come switch with Peeta."

"Thank _god_, I'm away from the b—" She falls silent under Peeta's stare. She must be very afraid of Peeta. "Yay, Primrose!" Cass gives me a side hug and flashes me a grin. "But seriously, thank heaven," she mutters under her breath, and I empathize, whispering "It must've stunk, quite literally." She laughs, and I laugh, and it is lovely. Katniss looks hurt, but I really…I really…maybe I care, just a bit. Half of me cares, half of me hates. I can't decide which to join: Cassia or Katniss? Sister or best friend, which to choose? I want to forgive Katniss. I want to. I really do. It's just that I can't shake the way her voice sounded. The way she said "a burden" broke my heart in two.

"Why did you even stage this meeting?" Katniss snaps. "What is so important that we need to talk about? Prim? Ian?"

Katniss looks me full in the face. I see her flickering gray eyes, so like my father's. I see his lips, nose, and eyebrows in her. I see my father's readiness and tenseness, like she's waiting for something to happen, always. I see my father's superior hunting skill in her.

I see my father in her.

I wonder if she sees my mother in me.

Katniss and I hold eye contact. Gray meets hazel. Even when Haymitch answers her question, she's still looking at me.

"Prim and Ian are what this whole mission is about. If you don't like it, leave. You are a very important asset, Katniss. You are the general. We need you to train the fighters. But, I suppose Prim could fill your spot."

Katniss breaks eye contact. She is obviously upset. "I don't need my little sister to take over for me. She's the pilot's assistant. She's already got a job."

Effie rubs her forehead. "Attitude, Katniss," she says sharply.

"I don't care about my attitude; I care about my weak little sister taking over my spot!"

I stand up, and the room falls quiet, including Katniss. Her expression changes from anger to fear. I realize how intimidating I must look. And I like that.

"I am not weak." The words sound harsh and cold and dangerous. I love that. "I am not the one who cried over something her boyfriend did wrong. I am the one who suffered two and a half years without the love of my life. I am the one who worries every night that he might be dead. I am the one who is currently taking the weight of the world off of your shoulders. I am the one who won my Games at thirteen. I can't allow you to sit there and call me weak. I am not a burden, either."

Katniss goes white. "You—you heard…"

"I heard every word. I was right behind that wall. Why don't you say it aloud to me, Katniss? If you've got the nerve to say it about me, you can say it to me."

Her lips quiver. "I…I…"

Cassia looks so proud, so proud of me, that I am pleased. I love Cassia so much, sisterlike, and she is a much better sister figure than Katniss.

"You coward."

I feel a deadly rush of words.

"You are a coward, Katniss. You are a gossip who can't say half the things that come out of her mouth in front of the person she said them about. You are a coward! You can't even talk to your boyfriend about why you're upset! YOU ARE A COWARD!"

Peeta looks hurt and sad, but he must know I'm right. He must.

Haymitch whistles. "I think we can get on fine without continuing this meeting. You are dismissed."

I stand and march right past Katniss without another glance. Cassia joins me, and we walk, heads high, side by side.

And I am proud.


	14. Chapter 14

_Don't Look Back—Chapter 14_

**A/N: I'm really sorry about the wait on that last chapter; like I said: soccer season. Oh well. I cut that one a bit shorter than the others because of the long wait, if you were wondering. Also, don't worry, I'm about 98% sure that Ian won't end up with Elly. I'm thinking a different route. Prian for life, right? Okay, enjoy Ch. 14!**

Chapter 14—Snapshots and Revelations

Prim's POV

"Was that strong?" I ask Cassia. She grins crookedly.

"Yeah, it was awesome. I mean, you standing up to her? That was utter awesomeness." Her face darkens. "She can't talk to everyone like that, like you weren't even there. God, what a—I can't even explain it." The corners of her mouth lift. "I'll be your sister. She's not worth a—."

"Thank you." I smile at Cass.

She really is beautiful. Her hair is a light, straight blonde, thin and soft. It runs down to right about the mid-torso. Her eyes, a light, metallic gray, are alive and buzzing with energy, framed by long black eyelashes. They shine with anticipation, happiness, and friendliness. Her cheekbones are high and her cheeks themselves become more rounded when she smiles. She's built delicately, almost like she's fragile. But Cassia is tougher than nails. If you even mention the word "petite" to her, about her frame, she will bash your face in.

Cassia sits up a little straighter. She pulls out a drawstring bag and rummages inside. "Here," she says, her voice beaming with excitement. "I got you these. I thought you might need some cheering up after the whole Katniss-is-a-big-fat-coward thing." In her hands she clutches a book. It is a very thick book, with a beautifully decorated cover. "Look inside."

The cover is adorned with flowers, loads of them. They are hand-painted. "Peeta," I whisper, fingering them. I must remember to thank him. "They're gorgeous, Cassia…"

"I didn't give you the book so you could look at the cover. Look inside!" She seems very anxious to see me open it, so I do.

There are pictures.

There are lots of pictures.

There are lots of pictures of me and Ian. There are lots of pictures of me and Cassia. There are lots of pictures of me with Peeta, me with Effie, me with T. I didn't realize that when Cass kept snapping away with her camera, this was what she wanted. I didn't even really think twice. She's been _click, click, click, flash_ing for the past week. But how did she get the ones of me and Ian…?

A teardrop splashes on our entwined hands. I wipe my eyes quickly and glance toward Cassia. "How did you get the ones of me and Ian?" Instantly I realize I should've said thank you first and foremost.

She tosses her head back and laughs. "Can't blame you for asking: I asked the Head Gamemaker to email them to me. Plus, your mother donated some from the last few days you spent together. She was a photographing machine. You know—"

I cut her off with a huge hug. She smiles and ruffles my hair. I open my mouth to thank her times three million, but she shushes me. "You don't have to." Her eyes smile. "Just be my friend-sister, okay? That's more than enough." She stands and stretches and makes a face. "Listen, PR…"

But I hear nothing else.

All I hear is Gregg, my friend, calling me PR, and I remember him after Quinn died and I remember him being like a big brother and I remember being so worried about him after the flood and so worried when I figured we would have to kill him and I remember him disappearing after the wave and joining Samantha and I remember hurling a knife at him and hitting him square in the head, and I hear Samantha screaming and I hear everyone and everything wailing, and I hear myself sobbing even though he was a freaking traitor...

And when I remember Gregg I remember Quinn, the most beautiful and pure and perfect person I will ever know, so innocent and funny, and I remember her finding me in the tree and calling up to me and I remember being so cautious but with Quinn you never had to be cautious you just had to be able to make someone laugh, and she excelled at that, and I remember her painting the sunset and I remember her fiery-auburn hair sprinkled with gold and I remember her eyes, her constant color changing eyes, from blue to green to gray and back again, and I feel tears come and I feel myself releasing all the memories I held back for two and a half to three years, and I see _Quinn sacrificing herself for me._

"Primrose! PRIMROSE! Oh my god, what's wrong? Are you hurt? Are you okay?" Cassia is standing in front of me, looking concerned. She is my Quinn. She is my new Quinn. And I start bawling.

"I-i-it's just…I h-had a friend in the G-G-Games called Gr-Gregg, and h-he called me P-PR, and h-he betrayed m-me and I-Ian and he had this p-p-perfect friend named Q-Quinn, and she was my b-best friend, C-Cass, and she s-sacrificed hers-self for m-me…"

She smacks one hand to her forehead while the other is held over her mouth, quivering. "I am so stupid," she says in a low voice. "I am so, so sorry, Prim, and I promise I'll never call you—call you what I did again."

I shake my head, sniff, and swallow the stutters. "It's okay. I just haven't—I just haven't…_allowed_ myself to think of them in three years, Cass…and I remember how much I loved them."

She eyes me with something that's not pity, and I am thankful for that, but what she eyes me with scares me.

She eyes me with empathy.

"When I was little," she begins, her voice strong but soft, "I was abused. By my parents, I was hit and kicked and beaten by both of my parents.

"My mother was addicted to spending the night with men, if you get my gist. She was always somewhere with some guy, and that guy might have been my dad, but probably not. My dad wasn't even _bothered_ by it. He'd say, 'that's the way the cookie crumbles; I guess' and crack himself up when my mother would come home, adorned with rumpled clothes and smelling of alcohol. She wasn't an alcoholic, no, and I guess that's lucky. But she was terrible. I'd say something mouthy—can you imagine me, keeping quiet about all this?—or I'd just do something, _anything_ she didn't like in the slightest way, and she'd say in a very dangerous, very low voice, 'Do not disappoint me more than you already have, Cassia' and hit me, smack me, drag me downstairs and threaten to lock me there for a week. I was afraid, too afraid to call the Peacekeepers. I was a cowardly little girl, except for when it came to tattling, and who likes a tattletale, anyway?

"My father was not an addict. My father had some anger issues. Just like with my mother, he'd scream at me over pointless things, like not tying my shoelaces or saying 'no'. Except he was worse, my father, he had OCD and ADHD and some really severe anger thingies floating around in his cells and brain. He was much worse. He'd grab a belt and beat me, or make me sleep outside in January, or sometimes just all out right-hook, left-hook, and KO trick.

"But the sad thing is, sometimes I loved them. Sometimes, when my father would whistle as he read the paper and then go out and make a really nice dinner for me, when he wasn't mad, and then smile and show me his baseball cards, or when my mother would take me shopping and put on my makeup and ask me how she looked, and then take us for manicures and massages and it would be a Spa Day, miraculous Spa Days. Those days were rare. That was usually when I hadn't disappointed them in a really long time."

Her eyes shine with unshed, hidden tears, just like mine, and I hug her and she hugs me and we march off to the control room, starting to put away our memories again.

We're less than one hundred miles from Ian's location.

Ian's POV

Elly hasn't spoken to me in two days, and to be honest, I'm kind of okay with that. After all the awkwardness and weirdness of The Kiss, I don't even really want to talk to her right now.

_She loves you._

But I love Primrose.

_She's your friend._

But she won't talk to me!

_She made a mistake._

She's jealous!

_That's because she loves you._

I see no ends to any arguments with myself. I just need a break.

I was let out of the hospital yesterday, and I didn't need a wheelchair, and I could walk just fine, thank you very much security guards, and I was very happy to go back to my days of staring out the window at clouds that look like President Snow's beard.

I was expecting Elly to come shrieking out of the bushes "YOU'RE CURED! YOU'RE CURED! YOUR GIGANTIC HEAD IS CURED!" and hug me and try to kiss me again, but I found stone-cold, rock-solid silence. The usual electricity that crackled while she was around was gone, nowhere. It was just gone.

So I sit and think of Primrose.

Her eyes are so blue, sky blue. She is not unlike the sky: unending and free. Her hair, in two low ponytails, interwoven with brown and blond, is the kind of color you can't call "dirty" blond. Her lips, so soft, so warm, like they were welcoming me; I remember kissing them and loving her. She does not give off electricity, she gives off warmth and security and comfort. She gives off love.

I remember kissing her as the Wave came crashing over on us, and I remember kissing her as we went under, and I remember her fist in my shirt, pulling me to the air. She saved my life, and I left Twelve.

_How could they?_

"Primrose," I whisper. I feel the tears come and I'm left, sobbing in my Victor's Village house, so empty, and I think of how perfect it would be if she walked through the door right now, _right now_, and kissed me and said hello.

I want her to call me, but she doesn't answer. I know it's because she's afraid of the tracking, but why? Is she keeping something from me? God, it's frustrating, but I'm not mad at her. I'm mad at the Capitol. I'm furious with them. I want to stomp on their faces.

Everything is just wrong. Without her, everything is wrong. Everything is dull and silent and nothing is fun in the slightest way. Everything is just wrong. She lights up my world. She gives me life. I am slowly dying without her.

"I need you," I whisper to the vase of dried primroses I bought so long ago. "I need her." My tears sting my cheeks and my nose burns. She would kiss me and take my hand and run a hand through my hair and I would feel better.

I just need someone.

Prim's POV

"We will be approaching Mr. Reseda's location in THIRTY MINUTES!" Cassia screams.

I scream and shout and yell because soon

I will see my love again

And it will be wonderful.


	15. Chapter 15

_Don't Look Back—Chapter 15_

**A/N: MOMENT OF TRUTH! It's PRIAN time again! 333! Enjoy Ch. 15!**

Chapter 15—REUNITED

Prim's POV

"Ten minutes till touchdown," Haymitch says, a bit of a smile crossing his face. I hug him. He smells of whiskey and sweat, but I still hug him because he has been a huge part of this operation.

I hug Cassia too, for helping me through everything, and for flying (rarely). She squeezes me so tightly I think I might explode. "Almost time," she crows, "almost time!"

I hug Effie, through all of her beads and bangles and trinkets, and she is crying of happiness. "Oh, what a reunification this will be," she chokes, putting a gloved hand to her forehead.

And lastly I hug Peeta, even though all of this was his fault, because he seems very lonely lately. "Thank you," I whisper to him, and he grips me back tightly. "Are you okay?"

He is brave enough to warrant a small smile and nod. "Don't focus on me," he says, "it's your moment." I grin back and kiss his stubbly cheek.

"Touchdown in seven," Haymitch says, and I feel bubbly and light.

"I'm going to go with Primrose and get her ready," Cassia says. "She'll be the only one exiting the ship." I nod. I've been drilled before.

We walk down the long, long hallway until we get to Room 101. Cassia hands me a long-sleeved, dark green shirt and black yoga pants. "Wear the boots you have on now, and ponytail."

I do as she instructs, and in two minutes I'm ready to roll, equipped with a knife, gun, and earpiece.

"Five minutes."

"Oh, my god," I yell, so happy. The one thing that pierces just a bit of my joy is that I don't see Katniss—

And then she's behind me, hugging me, crying. She's whispering how sorry she is and how much she loves me. I hug her back and say how sorry I am and how much I love her and how much I need her. We are tear-sodden and happy, times three million, when we exit Room 101. Katniss turns to Cassia and apologizes, and Cassia does the same, and they hug and cry a bit too.

"ONE MINUTE! PRIMROSE, GET READY!" Haymitch shouts.

I double-knot my shoelaces and wipe my hands on my hair.

I'm ready.

We touch down. Cassia says that she has to go check on something, but tells me to use my weapons wisely—I think she means my mind. Haymitch and Peeta wish me good luck, Katniss kisses my forehead and embraces me and tells me that she loves me, and Effie tearfully tells me to stay alive, and Haymitch grins.

I'm out the door and in the center of District 10.

Instantly my Games reflexes kick in. I realize that I'm either going to have to play the spy or play the innocent. "Come in, Brandy Master, come in."

Haymitch's voice sounds in my ear. "Are you in a good position, Lover Girl?"

"Yes, it's deserted."

"Good. I would suggest playing the unsuspicious little citizen here."

"Roger. Over."

"Get going."

I step out into the City Square, and smile. "Hello," I say to a middle-aged man, who gives me a strange look.

"'Lo," he mutters, before scurrying off, looking confused.

Haymitch crackles over the earphone. "You're not supposed to be happy! District 10 is not a happy district! Keep a sad look on your face and walk with a slight drag. Do not be happy."

"Got it," I say, and move along, this time keeping my brows furrowed, mouth in a line, and bent over slightly.

I see lines of houses and dirty buildings. They all look very rickety. A few older women wash their clothes in the brown river over by some rocks. I gulp and try to breathe. My heart races at three million miles an hour. It's very, very terrifying being in a strange district.

"You're going to have to cut through the woods. I'll instruct you."

I nod, the pressure on my shoulders lifting slightly.

"Go left into the woods."

I do.

"Now walk straight, I'll tell you when to turn."

The woods are dark and dense, and the women look at me when I turn. I try to look nonchalant, like it's no big deal, like I walk into the woods everyday. They just stare at me, their hollow eyes and sunken faces turning to watch me.

"Stay there," I call. "Don't move."

They look down, as though they hadn't seen a thing. My breathing steadies. I tread further, going straight. There is bright green moss that grows on the rough, dark trunks of towering trees. Rodents run across the dead leaves, making them crunch and crack, not unlike my boots do. "Haymitch, should I climb a tree? Maybe I could get a better leverage point."

"NO. YOU DO NOT RISK ANYTHING."

"Okay. Over."

"No, turn left here."

I do. A gushing stream unravels, and I have to hop across the slippery stones that are smack in the middle to get to the other side. A huge bird flaps its wings near me, and I nearly trip backward into the water. I straighten, dust off my shirt, and continue nervously.

I can see white houses at the edge of the woods. "When do I turn?"

"Soon…wait…okay…turn right here."

I follow his instructions. I see Victor's Village, and my heart leaps. I see a window, a light, and

Ian.

_"He's right there!"_ In the half hour it took me to get to VV, I've been laden down with insurmountable fear, anxiety, anger, and numbness, and all of that disappears in an instant. He's within fifty feet of me.

I hop over the fence, ignoring Haymitch's "no, go through the gate" and "don't walk so loudly". I walk up to the house.

Everything is about to be fixed.

I knock twice. "Go away," Ian shouts.

_HE'S ALIVE, HE'S HERE, HE'S HERE, ALL IS WELL._

**(Author's Intervention: I know that normally, in fanfictions, something awful would happen to prevent her from reaching him, but you know what? Primrose has worked too hard to not meet him.)**

I twist the knob. It's open. I walk inside.

Ian freezes at the sight of me.

"Ian," I whisper.

"PRIMROSE!" he shouts, and he wraps me up in his arms and I kiss him and he kisses me and I run a hand through his hair and his hands clasp around my waist, bringing us closer together, and our mouths work perfectly together, and he smells like tears and grass and rich earth, and it doesn't matter that he's obviously been crying or that I haven't seen him in three years, oh no, because we are together and we are alive.

Ian's POV

I hear the doorknob twist. _God, I told them to go away,_ I think.

I walk into the hallway, ready to yell at someone.

Instead, I find a girl.

I find a girl with sky-blue eyes, blond-intertwined-with-brown hair, soft lips, and a shocked expression.

"Ian," she whispers.

"PRIMROSE!" I yell, surging toward her. I encase her in my arms and she kisses me with her soft lips and I kiss her back and her hands are in my hair and mine are at her waist, and I pull her closer, and our mouths are in harmony because I have every inch of her memorized, and she smells like salt and leaves and something sweet and light, and it doesn't matter that she's covered in mud or that I haven't touched her in three years, no way, because we are united and we are adrenaline.

She breaks away, and tears are cascading down her cheeks. She runs a hand along my jawline.

"You're alive," she whispers, her voice breaking. I kiss her again, and she melts in my arms. We stand there, our lips joined, for another minute. Her tears wet my cheeks. I don't understand why she is here but she is, and that is all that matters.

She pulls away yet again, her eyes searching mine. "I love you," Primrose says, stronger this time. "But we have to go."

"Why?" I whisper, kissing her cheek. "Why can't you stay here?"

"I organized a rescue mission to save you, Ian." She runs a hand through her messy hair. "Please, we can hide you. We can hide you!"

I nod. "Wherever you go, I'll be there."

She gives me one last, quick kiss, and takes my hand.

Surveying the room, she laughs and shakes her head. "Without me cleaning up after you, this place is a train wreck. Remember when you told me you'd call me 'Housekeeper' for the rest of my life?"

"You're too organized," I tease, poking her arm. She laughs again, standing on her tiptoes to kiss my nose.

"Okay, so here's the plan. Haymitch will snatch us out of the sky very quickly, while our ally Beetee hacks into the security system (while it's weak) and disables the security camera footage. Then we'll be off to Twelve while we make something up about you missing or dying. We are planning to assassinate Snow, to get rid of all doubt. And we'll be _free_, Ian, _free_."

I kiss her hand. "It'll be so nice when we can do this all the time."

"I know." She closes her eyes. I see the familiar splash of freckles across her nose. They seem faded.

"Let's go, I need to get out of here," I say with disgust. She flashes me a grin and pulls me along, out the door.

The air meets me, fresh and clean, soothing my sob-racked lungs. Primrose is here. She is here, and suddenly everything broken was fixed.

"Elly." Primrose stops dead and faces me. "I just realized she'll be looking for you."

"We haven't got time, Primrose," I say, as nonchalantly as possible. "Besides, her and I…we fought a few days ago. She's really mad. She didn't even come after I was cured."

She claps a hand over her mouth. "Oh my god, Ian…"

"I know. Let's just get out of here while we can. She'll only hold us up." Primrose nods, a sad look on her face. "She…she told me how you two know each other." I grip her hand tighter. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm ashamed of what I did, becoming all depressed like that." Her eyes cling to her feet. "I put Elly through a lifetime in just a few months. I gave her my life and said 'Here. Fix it.' And when she couldn't, I was mad. But really, I just stopped. I gave up. I gave up and passed myself onto Elly. I relied on her, and I just couldn't get back on track. I swerved too hard. I was stupid." She's not crying. She's not sad. She's angry. Not the explosion kind of angry, but the stone-cold, ignorance, level-headed, dangerous kind of angry. I try to kiss her to make her feel better.

It works. I hear her sigh my name against my lips.

We break away as we hear a rustling in the air above. It's a hovercraft, coming to pick us up. "RESEDA! HOW YA DOIN'?" a girl's voice shouts. "THIS IS YOUR BOYFRIEND, HUH, PRIMROSE?"

"God, Cassia," Primrose says, her face red and screwed upward in laughter. "JESUS! PICK US UP, YOU IDIOT!"

"M'KAY, ONE SEC—!" The voice disappears. Primrose laughs nervously.

"That's Cassia James, the pilot of our expedition. She completely and totally captained our mission to find you. I owe—I owe so much to her. She's incredible. She's pretty much my best friend, aside from you," she finishes bashfully. I hug her tightly as the claw extends downward.

"LIE DOWN AND DON'T GET TOO HANDSY," the girl's—Cassia, I guess—voice says, laughing. I join in with it, and soon Primrose does too, her hand at my back. We lie down, her beside me, warming me. I can feel her hand creep up to my neck. A shiver follows it up.

"You realize you're turning sixteen in a few weeks," Primrose whispers.

"You realize that you're turning sixteen in a few _days,_" I say.

Her fingers dance at my shoulder, gliding to my collarbone.

"I realize it," she breathes. "It's just not polite to exclaim things about your birthday." And she kisses my cheek gently, nuzzling her head against my shoulder. We rest like that, her head grazing mine, her hair tickling my chin.

And soon we're in the craft.

"START UP NOW," Cassia James orders. "GET OUT OF HERE!"

"My words exactly." I smile. Cassia is very pretty. She resembles Primrose, in a way, except for the eyes. Cassia's are a startling gray, deep around the pupil but gradually lighter as they expand. Her voice is a cheerful, high type, and her smile is goofy and crooked. Her figure is flawless—she is as beautiful as they come.

Except for Primrose.

"Hey," Cassia says with a nod in my direction. Then she nearly knocks over a table as she runs to squeeze Primrose tightly. "I thought you were going to die! Haymitch, just sending you out there, weaponless, the IDIOT! I told him to call me when he got you ready! But no, after I go check on the engines for_ one second_ you're out, defenseless and alone with no one but the nutcase instructing you—"

"Cass," Primrose interrupts. "I'm fine."

She looks at me.

"We're fine."


	16. Chapter 16

_Don't Look Back—Chapter 16_

**A/N: That last chapter was so, so wonderful to write! Ah, Prian****! Enjoy Ch. 16! **Warning: a bit more swearing in this one, due to emotions running high** (D-D-Disclaimer, yo: I don't own C-C-Clarity by my man, ZEDD, even though I changed dem lyrics up-p-p a bit.)**

Chapter 16—Echo

Elly's POV

I sit in Otherplace, just below the rickety staircase. My hair is coming undone from its sleek braid. It whips around in the stale wind, in the dry, cold air. My hands are freezing and cracked, as my lips are as well, and I can hardly breathe.

I want him.

I kissed him because I wanted him, and he said no. If I had only jumped at the chance earlier, maybe things would've been different. _I just need to talk to him._

He's probably been alone in his house, staring out the window. That's the Ian I found. And then I tried to Ellyize him, and he didn't want to.

A single pansy peeks out of the dead, yellow grass. Its purple petals stretch hopefully toward the sky, desiring sunlight.

Am I the little pansy, desiring light? Is Ian the light, or is something else? Is Primrose the light? Is my family the light? Is freedom? Is love? Is inclusion? Is loyalty? Or am _I_ the light—no. Diana told me I was conceited, and she was righ—

_"DIANA!"_ I scream, and clap my hand over my mouth. Where has she been? Why haven't I seen her? She is my neighbor, where is she?!

I start up the staircase, wobbling and being very cautious to step over cracks and loose boards. Once, I lean too far to the side, and nearly pitch myself over the end like Ian did…only this time, there would be no one to help me…But I pick myself up, breathe once, and start again.

_High dive into frozen waves where the past comes back to life, fight fear for the selfish pain it was worth it every time…_

I close my eyes and climb the next few steps daringly. He hurts me, he hurts me, but I like the pain, I like the selfish, conceited pain.

_Hold still right before we crash 'cause we both know how this ends, a clock ticks 'til it breaks my glass and I drown in you again…_

He used to love me. He _used_ to. And now I'm crashing and burning while he is passive, passive just passive, with my glass I used so hard to resist him finally, perfectly breaking, and then he goes and ignores me.

_You are the piece of me I wish I didn't need, chasing relentlessly, still fight and I don't know why…_

If you take him away from me I break, add him to me I explode. How does this work? I still push even though I know it will ultimately result in my ruining.

_If our love is tragedy, why are you my remedy? If our love is insanity, why are you my clarity?_

This whole thing is a catastrophe and a whirlwind of confusion rolled into one big taco o' disappointment.

I pick up the pace; opening my eyes and feeling the chilly wind caress my face. Everything that's happened in the past six months has been so strange and lovely and horrible.

_I need to sort things out._

I reach the top, albeit out of breath, and keep going. My footsteps clap against the cold stone ground. "Ian!" I yell, but it comes out more like a wheeze. "Ian!"

_What if he's done something stupid?_

I creep behind the bush next to his house. "YOU'RE CURED! YOU'RE CURED! YOUR GIGANTIC HEAD IS CURED!" I shout, jumping out, ready to scare him out of his wits.

Instead I fine solid silence.

"IAN!" I scream, panic setting in. "IAN! WHERE ARE YOU?!"

I sprint up to the door and jiggle the knob. It's locked. It's locked. Oh, my god, it's locked. Something's wrong. Something is very, very wrong. "IAN IAN IAN PLEASE ANSWER ME!" I cry, in a strangled sort of voice.

_Where is he?! WHY IS HE NOT HERE?!_

I run around the house to his bedroom window and chuck pebbles against it. "IANIANIANIAN!" I sob, beating the walls with my fists, tears streaming down my cheeks.

Everything echoes.

"Ian…please don't be gone…PLEASE DON'T BE GONE!" My nose burns and my chest is on fire and my eyes are so blurry I can't even see, and I feel my heart crack into three million little pieces, so miniscule that I could never fit them back together.

I don't remember much about what happened after that only that I woke up the next day freezing cold, my tear streaks so cold they glittered on my cheeks. I just went inside his house and went up to his bedroom and slept even more, in his bed, catching his scent again. He smells like summer. He smelled like summer.

That's where I am now, in his bedroom, staring out the window. The same window he always peered out of. The same bed he slept in, dreaming of Primrose. The same chair he sat in, legs crossed, his head resting on his chin and his arm resting on the windowsill.

There are many pictures on the bedside table. One is of Ian and Primrose, their arms around each other, laughing. He is looking at her, not the camera, and she has her arm draped across his shoulders, holding him tightly to her, like she'd never let him go.

Who would've thought they could be separated?  
>There's another picture, another one of her, this one serious. It is the one they take so if you die they can flash it in the arena. Her expression is strong, brave, but human. Eyes focused on the camera, jaw set, the corners of her mouth slightly lifted. She looks confident, but human.<p>

_ I'm only human._

She said that to me the day I yelled at her. I didn't tell Ian everything, because I would automatically make myself the villain, and she would be the damsel in distress…

_"PRIMROSE! LISTEN TO ME! I know he's gone, and I know it hurts. But wallowing in SELF-PITY isn't going to change that!"_

_ Her eyes, full of tears, fix on mine. "You are my best friend," she says in a low voice. "You are supposed to help me, Eleanor…"_

_ My hands fly to my head, fisting in my hair. I've had too much; I've had enough of this! "I AM HELPING YOU!" I breathe deeply. "I am trying to explain things to you, but you—don't—listen! Is the depression plugging your ears? Please, please listen, Primrose: Everything is going to be okay. Yes, he's gone. Yes, it hurts. But you can't summon him with your tears!"_

_ "Eleanor, I'm only human! I feel pain, you know! I'm not a cold-hearted monster like you! You keep yelling at me, telling me that it's fine that he's gone, it's fine that there's not one person left—except my mother and my sister—who loves me! You don't love me anymore, Eleanor; you are annoyed by me and hate me now! It's because I'm different, isn't it? It's because you need everything to be the way YOU want it to be! I don't know how much longer I can keep from dumping your sorry ass and running away!"_

_ Her words, ice cold, pierce me. "You don't like that word," I whisper._

_ "It's appropriate, Eleanor, and I will STAND UP for myself instead of being your lapdog, like I have all these years!" She turns away, tears of fury and heartbreak running down her cheeks._

_ I realize what I've said._

_ I realize how insensitive I've been._

_ I realize that the damage has been done._

_ "Primrose," I say, reaching out to touch her shoulder. She jerks away and faces me, her beauty dark and dangerous, anger in her eyes._

_ "Get away from me, bitch." And she runs off, the soles of her Converses smacking the asphalt, her racked breaths filling the air._

_Later in the flashback_

_ The phone rings six times before she picks up. I expect her voice to be tearful, and broken, and begging for help again._

_ "What do you want?"_

_ "I want to say I'm sorry about everything," I breathe. "I'm sorry, Primrose, I've been so, so insensitive, and I shouldn't…" I'm crying now. "I shouldn't have told you everything was fine when it wasn't, oh my god, I'm a horrible friend, a horrible person."_

_ "You're not a horrible person; you just did some horrible things. It's—I don't totally forgive you. I don't, and I don't know if I will. But—Eleanor, you can't stand me being different, Eleanor. You can't stand change. I'm sorry I said it so rudely last night, but it's true. It's time we realize our virtues and our flaws. I mean, I'm a grudge-holder. That's a flaw." She goes silent. I pick up, angered slightly._

_ "I can stand change, Primrose. I can't stand my friend dying because of some boy."_

_ "SOME BOY? SOME BOY?! I think you mean the LOVE OF MY LIFE! I love him! And you don't want to be REPLACED!" She explodes. "He SAVED MY LIFE and I SAVED HIS! We only survived BECAUSE OF EACH OTHER! I didn't think of YOU when I was about to die! I thought of HIM, because WHO DIDN'T CALL AFTER THE REAPING? WHO DIDN'T WRITE AFTER I WON? WHO DIDN'T CARE WHEN I SHOWED UP AT THEIR DOOR AFTER HE LEFT, SOBBING MY HEART OUT? Oh, that's right, the—"_

_ "SHUT UP!" I scream. "SHUT UP, AND DON'T' TALK TO ME EVER AGAIN!" _

_ The beep as I hang up echoes through my bedroom, and I realize that yet again, I've caused a wildfire and a hurricane and an earthquake, and I realize that Primrose is no longer my friend._

I put my head between my knees and cry.

"Ian, Primrose, Mom, Dad…" I whisper. "Please come back. Please."

"I'm so alone."

"I'm so flawed."

"I'm so sorry."

Ian's POV

Primrose turns a corner, her arm wrapped around my waist. "So then I said to Katniss, 'you're a coward, you self-righteous—'" She stops midsentence, smoothes her hair, and says, "Hi, T!"

"Prim!" A good-looking boy with curly-ish blonde hair and friendly blue eyes and long eyelashes and a seductive smile (in other words, a mini Finnick Odair) runs up to hug her. She grips him tightly, and kisses his cheek.

Instantly I hate him I hate him I hate him.

I know it's a friendly gesture, and they're probably really good friends and it's probably nothing, but my heart goes ice cold and my blood goes red hot.

"T, oh my _god_, are you okay?" Genuine concern floods her eyes and she puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Me? Prim, you're the one who got a dude out of a foreign district! You're the whole reason I'm on this aircraft?" His voice softens. "Are _you_ okay?"

"Yeah—yes," she stutters, slightly breathless.

And I realize that there's more than good friendship here. She must've fallen for another guy while I fell for another girl. I mean, it's fair—but I'd rather it wasn't.

Primrose looks back, does a double take, and grabs my hand. "This is Ian Reseda, The Great Love Of My Life and one-half of the reason you're on this fricking airship." She grins at T and he grins back. Great, they've got inside jokes.

"The fricking airship," T says, laughing. Prim senses something. She gazes at me with such intensity that I feel like floating. She loves me more, she loves me more.

"Yes, well, have a good day, T. I really have to go love my boyfriend a ton times three million," she says, and T smiles—SADLY?!

He wants her. While I was gone she very well could have just kissed him, loved him, and called off the whole mission. I could still be sitting in Ten, wanting Elly. We could've had whole new lives, with whole new people. If she hadn't come, we would have.

But she loved me enough not to.

"Well, hello and bye," T says to me, sticking out his hand. I shake, trying my best not to crush his fingers into dust.

"Bye," is all I say, and I make sure he can see me kiss Primrose on our way out.

"I'm sorry," she says once she breaks away. "I was so lonely and I wanted love again and I wasn't in love with T I was in love with the idea of being in love and I love you and here." And she kisses me with such love that I pick her up and spin her in the air. T is still watching us, and I am very satisfied.

"Everything's fine," I whisper in her ear, and she smiles.

"That tickles, idiot," she laughs, shoving me. I shove her back and soon she's holding my hand, her hand warm and smooth.

The white hallways never looked so luminous.

"So, once we get back to Twelve our plan is to assassinate Snow, to get all suspicion gone. It should be quite easy to assassinate him; the trick is getting into the Capitol unscathed." She frowns. "We go out, we go in." Soon her face brightens. "It's okay, though: we don't have to join the army until the adults finish the technical stuff like _How will we get an army_ and _What positions will everyone be_ and _When is Primrose and Ian's wedding—_ha, ha," she laughs, as I pretend to get down on one knee. "Nah, I'm good," she says when I hold out my hand like I have a ring sitting on my palm. "Shuddup, creepo: who gets married at sixteen?"

A lightbulb clicks on in my head. "YOU'RE SEVENTEEN TOMORROW!"

Primrose "shh"s me immediately, waving her hand all around. "It's not a big deal, okay? Just—please. Don't make it a big deal. It's nothing."

I stare back at her. "Dude, you only turn seventeen once! If you hadn't been born today—who knows if I'd have ever—ever met you." I try to play bashful.

"Oh, don't try that crap with me," she says, albeit through a smile. "Fine: you and I can celebrate. _Just. Us. Two._"

"Why does it even matter? Don't you want to celebrate your birthday?"

Primrose faces away from me. "No. I don't. I don't ever want to celebrate my birthday."

"But _why_—"

"_Because_, Reseda, something HORRIBLE happened, OBVIOUSLY!" she shouts. Her bottom lip quivers. She does cry a lot. But it's her only way to release emotion. I love her for that.

I clasp her in my arms while she breathes deeply. "My grandma was so sweet. She used to buy me candy and cakes and toys. She had quite a lot of money; she inherited a fortune from her mother. I also loved her. She had the kind of stories that never fade from your memory. They were all made up, of course, but even the most whimsical tale she spun out of thin air seemed like it could've happened. She told me stories about plane crash survivors roughing it in the Amazon, climbers stranded on Mount Everest, sailors lost with circling sharks. Every story was a tragedy that ended either horribly or perfectly. It was so hard to predict. One minute our hero would be winning a battle with a crocodile, the next he would be missing an arm." Primrose sighs. "Her stories were kind of like our lives. You just—you never really know." She breaks free of my grasp and gazes out the window. "You never know."

"Wh-what happened to her?" I cringe. That was a horrible question to ask.

"Simple, r-really. She spoke out about the Games, and how we've already made up our debt. Peacekeepers came the next morning. The End." Her face contorts. "Why is everything so messed up? It's like everything that's supposed to be bad is good. It seems like I'm always crying! It seems like I'm a wuss!" She covers her face with her hands, her fingers spread out. I kiss her ear. "Primrose Everdeen, a wuss. That's the most untrue thing I've ever heard." I kiss her hands. "Primrose Everdeen, who won the Hunger Games at thirteen." I kiss her cheeks. "Primrose Everdeen, who lost her boyfriend to the Capitol…" I kiss her forehead. "…Only to regain him three years later." I kiss her nose. Her eyes grow as big as saucers. "Primrose Everdeen…" I kiss her jawline, completely skipping her lips. "…who is currently planning to kill the man…" I kiss her neck. "...that caused her all this trouble…" I kiss her lips finally. "…after she insulted him on national television."

Primrose laughs softly. Her breath, smelling like wintergreen, is warm on my face. I hold her in my arms, while she wraps her arms around my waist, and we stand there, entwined, breathing the same exact air, or as Primrose would say, loving the company times three million.

Times three million.


	17. Chapter 17

_Don't Look Back—Chapter 17_

**A/N: So, they're planning to assassinate Snow. I think that will probably be the Last. Big. EVENT! I really don't know. PLEASE leave a review for anything else that you want, PLEASE. I need some ideas! Enjoy Ch. 17!**

Chapter 17—Sidelined

Cassia's POV

"Hi, Cass!" Primrose says, holding Ian's hand. She looks so cheerful lately; I can hardly still be gloomy.

"Hey. Hey, Ian." I nod in his direction.

Nevermind.

He tilts his head.

"Um, hi…are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" I say, too quickly and too sharply. "Of course I'm okay. Now, you gotta—go, because—um, well, we're fixing the engine. I'm sorry. Please leave now." I point, my thin blond hair falling across my face. Ian is staring at me. I blush slightly, and then curse myself. I should not be flattered. Ian is much younger. Still, it is nice to be looked at…

"Cassia. Cassia, what's wrong?" Primrose looks up at me, so young, so beautiful. She is too innocent sometimes.

"Nothing!" I try to smile, but it must look more like a grimace. I tuck my hair behind my ears. "Go, please."

"No, you're lying." Primrose lets go of Ian's hand and crosses her arms, squinting at me. "Liar."

"Don't call me liar," I spit. "It's a foul name and you need to _leave._"

Primrose's eyes flash angrily. "We'll be back later," she announces, and then leaves, Ian close behind her. He looks back at me once.

He is very handsome for his age, with a muscular-but-skinny frame, long eyelashes, rugged dark hair, and—breathtaking, yeah—emerald, glinting green eyes.

No, no, I can't keep staring at him; he'll think I'm weird. I'm revolted by that thought. This is Primrose's boyfriend. Too young for me, too innocent for me, too…

I close my eyes. The Thing, I can feel it inside of me, and that is not normal. This Thing, it's not normal. They said they eradicated it, and therefore disposed of the cure. I am sure someone could remember it. But it requires—many illegal things.

I am becoming frantic. I am becoming panicky. They tell me to stop thinking of it; it will only get worse if I do. I've been feeling it for about two weeks now. They say it infected me three weeks, but no, I believe two.

What the hell does it matter? I'm sick. I'm sick with The Thing. I would prefer to call it that rather than its real name. Its real name makes my stomach lurch and my head spin because I know it will be the death of me. But it is called _mange lentement corps_. I shudder slightly, a chill caressing my back and poking my neck, the hairs on the back of it standing up straight.

Death is my greatest fear. It's my worst nightmare, because even though some believe in God or gods, and although we have faith and some pretty solid evidence, we don't _really_ know—and the most faithful are protesting so loud I can hear it right now—and that scares me. Wandering around in darkness, blind, fumbling for something, anything: that's what I picture. I can't wrap my mind around a paradise full of golden streets and angels and sparkling flowers or a hellish landscape full of lava and fire and demons and devils. I only see—nothing.

We're less than twelve hours from Twelve. I suppose I should be really, really happy for Ian and Prim…

But I can't be. I can't be because…because…

I think I'm in love with Primrose.

I cover my hands with my face, feeling hot tears squeeze between the cold skin. That's a side effect of _mange lentement corps,_ The Thing, cold skin. The Side Effects: cold skin, blotchy rashes, gradually hair loss, fingernail chipping, and eventually shortness of breath, blindness, and coma. And then guess what.

Back to Primrose.

Every time I see her my heart does a little _THU-thump, _and skips a beat. I feel my stomach swoop and my breath catch. When she smiles at me, I feel my brain go into overdrive. I think I love her. I think I do.

It's a different kind of odd, loving the same gender. It's not the kind of odd you feel when you see a homeless man breakdancing to classical music. It's the kind of odd that isn't bad, just…stands out. It's a good odd. A comforting odd.

I run my sweaty hands through my limp hair. I've been feeling horrible lately, absolutely rotten. Everything seems dull and lifeless lately. Like my body will be, in just two months.

It's really, really (bad) odd knowing your death date. It's a twisted version of a birth date. Instead of wishing for it, you dread it.

Why does death even exist? Why can't we all just stay at the age we want for the rest of our lives? I'd love to stay my age forever. Nineteen next year, old enough to drive, old enough to get a good job.

I wish I could be so different. I wish I could be a genius instead of occasionally funny. I wish I could be a prodigy instead of moderately pretty. I wish I could discover something or invent something or teach something or _do_ something.

But I am just Cassia James, crazed pilot, dying at eighteen, in love with someone who could Never. Possibly. Love. Me. Back.

And it sucks pretty hard.

I get up and walk around till I find the cockpit. I sit down, push the autopilot button to put the light out, and grip the steering wheel, ignoring the pulsing behind my eyebrows and the constant flashbacks.

"Just focus," I mutter to myself. "Just focus. You just need to complete this mission. Then you can take pride in doing something."

"First sign of madness, talking to your own head." I give my heart a moment to relax at her voice. Spinning around, I smile at her smile and greet her. "Hey, Prim."

"Hi, Cass." Her eyes are full of concern. "Are you okay?" My eyes well up with tears as I nod, still smiling. It must seem so, so fake. Primrose takes my hand and my heart flutters. Being lesbian is hard.

_Lesbian. _I hate how it is used lately. How it is like a disease, whispered as an insult, a weapon. I hate it. Being lesbian is now like being in your own little class. You're separated from society. The normal ones, the girls who love the guys and vice versa, and the gays and lesbians. How stupid. How completely and utterly STUPID. Love doesn't automatically cut you away. Love is supposed to be accepted worldwide and cherished and celebrated, but now, if you don't do it "right", you're whispered about and glared at and shunted. You're _second class._

"Cass," she says softly. "Something is wrong. Please tell me. I can handle it."

_I'm jealous of your boyfriend and I want him gone._

"I'm fine."

Her eyes reflect in the light. "No you're not."

_I'm deathly sick and going to die in two months, six days._

"I'm just—worried about the airship. And—I feel excluded from everyone else."

_Both true, but not the entire truth…_

"Aww, Cass. I'm sorry. I am spending a lot of time with Ian…" She grins. "How about once we land, I'll spend a whole day with you?"

I blush. "Yes, please. As long as you don't gush about Ian to me, miss lovesick!"

She laughs and I laugh and I am on cloud nine. "It's a date!" she exclaims. And I know it is just an expression, but I am excited nonetheless.

"I promised Katniss I'd help with dinner. It's my night." Prim makes a face. "Peace."

"Peace!" I call after her, perhaps a bit too loudly. I hear her laugh as she exits.

"Yes, yes, yes! Take that, stupid Katniss! God, pushing me away from her like that! YOU LOSE, EVERDEEN! Haha-ha-haha!" I shout things like these, aloud, dancing around the room. "YES!"

The door bangs open. "CASSIA JAMES STOP YELLING!" T yells.

"Shut it, you," I say with a smile, ruffling his hair. "How's Prim, hmm? Still her lapdog?"

T blushes. "I dunno what you mean."

"Oh, really?" I put on my best Prim voice. "T! Could you get me a water bottle please?" I go lower. "O-o-of couRSE! DO YOU NEED ANYTHING ELSE? A KISS? A DATE? A PROMISE RING? WHATEVER YOU NEED I GOT, BABY!" I laugh.

"IDoNotSoundLikeThat," he says quickly.

"Ya you do." I smile. "But it's okay. It's cute. Too bad she's got a boyfriend. She really loves him."

"I know," T sighs. "But she's so pretty. I mean her _eyes. _Have you seen her smile?" He collapses in a chair. "God. Why would she ever like me?"

"I know, right?" I giggle. "I'm joking. But seriously: you had a chance. You didn't move, brotha. You gotta move. And then Mr. Reseda came back and BOOM."

"This is _serious, Cassia!_" His face is red and my smile dies on my lips. "GOD! CAN YOU EVER BE SERIOUS FOR ONE SECOND?!"

"Yeah," I say, voice catching. "I'm sorry. I didn't know it meant so much to you—"

"You never know. You never, ever know. It's all a joke to you! You skip through life laughing in everyone's face! You never know when to be solemn!" He stands up. "Just leave me alone," he proclaims, and walks out of the cockpit quickly.

"I'm SORRY!" I call after him. Then I angrily punch the autopilot button and grab the controls. I accidentally jerk the plane to the left—violently—and I don't really even care. _I'll show him serious. I'll complete this mission and then I won't even celebrate. Yeah, he'll be begging to know what's wrong. _

After a few minutes, pleased with my plan, I relax. I grip the controls less tightly and fly more smoothly. I listen to the soothing hum of the engine, the faint whoosh of the wind, and the sound of people moving around. It's like I'm alone in my own little world, separated from society. Society would find all of my flaws—my flaws to them, that is. Ew, you're blond, you must be stupid. Oh my god, you're _lesbian_, you freak! Jeez, you weigh one-hundred and five pounds and you don't have a thigh gap, fatty! Ew, ew, ew! You're messed up, you creep!

Twenty minutes and three colas later, Haymitch knocks on the cockpit door. "Holy crap," he says with a smile at my fourth soda. "I thought I had a drinking problem."

"You do," I say with a laugh. He puts an arm around my shoulder.

"I know things are hard for you, but don't worry. We're only nine hours away. It's all gonna be okay." He smells very faintly of alcohol, but I smell salt and wind on him. "I'm sorry for putting you through all of this."

"Thanks."

It's awkward having surly, tough-guy Haymitch for an uncle. But he's the closest family I've got right now. We really don't want the information leaked because that would just be weird. Plus I'd have to let everyone know about my parents, etc., etc.

"Well, I've gotta go get some liquor. Sober up there, miss," he says with a wink, and I grin.

"Careful, Mitchy," I call after him. He feigns stumbling out the door, Frankenstein-like. I just shake my head, a small smile crossing my lips.

_Check the dashboard fuel's okay_ It's so nice being able to be distracted by the controls. It gives me a break and I just become myself: the pilot inside _two degrees left no that's right we're a bit off course shift backward then left _It distracts me from Prim, Ian, Katniss, Haymitch, T, Mom, Dad _grip them tighter check altitude god we're going a bit too high slow down a bit engine's okay flight records visible_

And then the autopilot button is pushed by someone behind me. I whirl around, annoyed, to find Katniss smiling at me.

"Hi."

"Hey," I say, relaxing. I stand to hug her. Things have been really rocky, and before Prim left I decided to apologize. And now it seems that we are okay again. At least for now we are. "How are you?"

"Good, thanks. You?"

_I'm slowly dying, I'm in love with Primrose who loves someone else, and I'm slowly losing my "cool factor" plus I'm getting suicidal. I'm FINE._

And I can't hold it in anymore.

I feel hot tears run down the cold skin of my cheeks. I tell Katniss everything. I just need someone to talk to, and here she is, in shining armor. She just nods, her eyes sad, her face impassive.

She kisses my cheek once I'm done. "It's all going to be okay, Cassia." She smiles at me and puts a hand on my shoulder. "We'll get you through this. I won't let you die. I swear to god."

I smile a watery smile at her. "Thanks."

"Now, cheer up. We're planning a party for Ian and Prim before we assassinate Snow. And you're so creative, Cassia, we need some ideas! C'mon, Lazy Butt! Let's go!"

And as we're walking away, Katniss whispers, "I'll bet you anything that the cure is half-developed."

That makes me smile.


	18. Chapter 18

_Don't Look Back—Chapter 18_

**A/N: Hey, all! So I think we're going to include Elly a bit more here. I realize I've been portraying her as the villain, at least slightly. She's kind of the accidental villain for liking Ian and being vain and stuff. But she's also the intentional villain, as you'll see here. I dunno, man. She's got it rough, but it's meant like that. The person I based her off of, anyway, is super nice and super fun and not like Elly in any way except the name and look. Anyway, enjoy Ch. 18!**

Chapter 18—Hmm

Ian's POV

"Hey, Ian," Primrose begins, looking wary. "How do you think Elly's doing?"

"I think she'll be okay. She has to understand that I couldn't have stayed forever." Primrose's eyes are wide.

"But—she really loved you—it's like it was when you were taken away from me. Remember how you felt?"

Broken. Hopeless. Dead.

"It's like that for her right now, except she has to deal with the fact that he ran away with her ex-best friend." A single tear runs down Primrose's cheek. "I think we need to get her back."

"We're less than two hours away from Twelve and you want to go _back?_" I ask, incredulous. "Primrose, we can't, it's too late."

"I'll go get her, then. I can manage."

"No, Primrose," I say gently. "Not alone, you can't."

Her eyes harden and her body tenses as I slip my arms around her. "Do you doubt me?" She looks hurt. "Is that what it is?"

"No no no, no way." I shake my head. "I'm sure you could do it."

"But then why did you say 'not alone, you can't'?"

_Why is everything falling apart now?_

_ We're almost home, just please please please don't make us turn around._

"I'm sorry, Primrose. I'm positive you're capable." I drop my eyes and hear my voice soften. "I just don't want to lose you again."

Her smile returns, however small and sad. "I'm always with you."

Prim's Intervention

_Anger and fear and sadness well up inside of me. I finally just throw a pinecone as hard as I can. Then another. Another. I want a fight now. I want to thrust my knife as hard as I can. I want a distraction._

_ A single tear shines in the moonlight as it trails down my cheek. It's cold. _

_ I wipe it off and touch it gently on Ian's cheek. I want a part of me to stay with him always._

_ It shimmers on his skin. Absorbing quickly, it melts into him._

_ I smile._

_ There._

I am always with him, because of that night.

That night, from way back in the Games. The second night. He was there. I remember, amidst all the emotions, freaking out that Ian Reseda was sleeping less than six inches away from me.

Back To Ian

I guess I understand about her and Elly, but she is fine. She…she…

She's alone with no parents and no friends and no love and she's probably going insane because Elly is a firework. Elly is a firework that explodes at the end of the finale of the firework, the biggest and best and most colorful. She needs to be lit by a fuse. She needs life from something else.

And I was that life.

"Primrose…"

"We have to go back, you idiot." She's expecting me to shoot her down again. "I care, that's my best friend, out there, that's _Elly._"

"Yeah, okay, we'll send someone, alright?" I turn away, goose bumps erupting up and down my arms. Suddenly I feel sick. I feel fire lick my throat and stomach and I feel venom flood my veins and I feel so sick that I nearly fall over.

Primrose leans up on her tiptoes and kisses me softly, but I still feel sick.

"Okay," she whispers. "We'll send someone." I can tell she's trying to be sweet and also that she wants to spend time with me as well. I appreciate the gesture.

But I still feel sick.

"Ian. Ian Reseda. What's wrong?" Primrose asks, her voice full of concern. "Ian, talk to me."

Tears are running down my cheeks. "I left her," I whisper, my voice cracking. "I left h-her, alone." And then I scream and put my head in my hands as Cassia's voice comes over the intercom.

"TOUCHDOWN! WE—HAVE—LANDED!"

Primrose just crouches down next to me as I throw up, still screaming.

Primrose's POV

Oh, my poor baby.

Ian's spewing out his insides and I'm whispering words to him—words like "it's okay" and "we'll get her out" and "I love you" over and over and over—because he's really sick.  
>He suddenly has a fever, he's sweating like crazy but shivering, he's puking his guts up, and his vision is out of focus.<p>

"Just get it all out, sweetie," I murmur into his ear. "It's okay, Ian. We'll go back, okay? You're okay." I rub his back like a mother would to a child. He raises his head to look at me, his cheeks flushed and ashen at the same time. "Oh, Ian."

He finally stops vomiting and sits there, crying, nearly hyperventilating. His lips try to form words, but he only stutters magnificently. I pull his head into my lap, just like I did so many moons ago in our Games when he had food poisoning…

_ "You're getting worse." I finger the black pack and pulls out a winter coat. "Here. You'll feel scorched at first, but it will get better." I help Ian into it. At first he's visibly roasting. But after a few minutes, I see him relax. But he's still sick. I can't believe it. One day in and we're already falling apart._

_ I cup his chin in my hand. "You need to lie down, or you'll just keep feeling dizzy." I give a slight laugh. "I know what food poisoning is like. When your sister brings home raw meat every day and neither she nor your mother can cook, you get sick."_

_ "I-I-I b-bet." I'm right. His vision is out of focus._

_ "Here." I pull his head onto my lap. Instantly he unhinges. I hear him sigh into the night air. "Feeling better?"_

_ "Al-already."_

So many memories, so much good from bad. I start to sing, slowly and softly.

_"Kiss me_

_ Kiss me roughly_

_ Kiss me till our lips are numb."_

_ "Kiss me_

_ Kiss me gently_

_ Kiss me till we fall asleep."_

_ "Kiss me_

_ Kiss me sweetly_

_ Kiss me till we cannot see."_

_ "Kiss me_

_ Kiss me quietly_

_ Kiss me till our parents find us."_

_ "Kiss me_

_ Kiss me lovingly_

_ Kiss me till we're lost in each other's arms."_

_ "Love me_

_ Love me rightly_

_ Love me till the end of the world."_

I smile as I finish my little song, and Ian responds with a weak half-moon smile.

I'll take what I can get.

"Here, let's get you outside. Fresh air is really helpful to those who are sick. C'mon." I kiss him, I kiss him gently, I want to kiss him till we fall asleep. "Let's go, Ian." My words are soft, like a caress to the face. He breathes out, breathes in, breathes out, breathes in. I listen to the rhythmic sound of the inhales and exhales, matching them to mine. We breathe in harmony for a minute or so, gazing at each other. Then I reach my hand out and he takes it, standing and staying there steadily. "Are you really sick?"

He smiles again. "Lovesick," he whispers, albeit weakly, kissing my ear. I laugh.

But a part of me, sadly, doubts it.

_Me…or Elly?_

He loved her. He really did.

Just like I loved her—when we were best friends. I loved her so much. I just loved her. I loved making her smile, I loved her laugh, I loved her face that she made when she was surprised. I loved her in the simple way that best friends love each other.

And then…

I found her crouched over Ian's bed, kissing his hands, kissing his lips. And I can't explain how much I hated her in that moment. I hated her then as much as I hated her when she yelled at me for being sad. I hated her when she screamed at me to be happy already. I hated her when she stopped loving me.

And now I miss her again.

Love is weird.

It twists and it turns, snakes around, maybe loops a few times, ending up knotted and knotted and knotted. Some of those knots untie easily.

Others don't.

She was always _upset_ with me. Always telling me to stop this, do that, quit it, why are you doing this, blah, blah, blah. It was like I was never good enough. And I tried so hard. I tried so hard to be Elly's Primrose. I tried so hard to be her vision of perfect.

But I never was.

_"Primrose, why? Why are you so sad? Why are you doing this to me? Why me?"_

_ "Why YOU? You self-centered jerk! Why don't you care about me? I need help, Elly…please just help me…"_

_ "YOU DON'T NEED HELP! YOU NEED SENSE! You can't go love some boy and then be like 'waa waa waa, I miss him—it doesn't matter that I neglected you for a year! Waa!' You can't DO that!"_

_ "I'm sorry I neglected you. I was caught up in the Games, and Ian, and then he left…"_

_ "AUGH! I hate how you just—you don't—you're just accepting blame! What happened to the fiery Primrose who didn't care what people said? She FOUGHT BACK!"_

_ "You're not seriously—I JUST FOUGHT BACK EARLIER AND YOU TOLD ME TO SHUT UP, YOU LAZY, VAIN, UGLY, and SOULLESS—"_

_ "I'M LAZY? I'M VAIN? I'M UGLY? I'M SOULLESS? YOU ARE ALL FOUR AND MORE, YOU LAPDOG! ALL YOU'VE DONE LATELY IS FOLLOW ME AROUND AND AGREE BLINDLY!"_

_ "…"_

_ "…!"_

_ "OW—WHAT WAS THAT FOR?"_

_ "For being a terrible, depressed little emo girl. I hope that hurt."_

I help Ian up dazedly, sort of stumbling myself. "Whoa…let's just get off of this stupid aircraft, shall we?"

For some reason (you'll _never_ guess why) I don't really want to go get Elly either.

Her bad qualities (screaming at me, punching and scratching me, being vain) and her good qualities (funny, sweet—at first, good at making you smile) cancel each other out. She's really just—nothing. Maybe 40 percent good and 60 percent bad. So really she's 20 percent bad and 80 percent nothing. What side of herself did she show to Ian? The fiery ball of adrenaline or the sweet girl who liked to look at shoes? I'll bet it was the former: he probably annoyed her in some way. Another check mark in the bad qualities: easily annoyed.

"Sorry for the whole puke incident," Ian mumbles shamefacedly. "Haymitch won't be very happy."

"Who cares what the hell Haymitch thinks," I say, feeling reckless, and kiss him, pinning him up against the wall.

Elly's POV

If it's going to come down to this, it will.

I don't care if I die.

I don't care if I get lost.

I don't care if he doesn't want to see me again.

I don't care.

I'm coming to Twelve.

It'll take approximately thirty-six days to get there. I really don't care at all. I just need Ian. I just need him.

And…

However much I tell myself that I was only trying to help, I realize that I was the worst friend I could ever be. I hate myself for doing what I did to her.

To Primrose.

I know she still remembers it. I still see her today, softly asking for help, me screaming at her. I thought…I thought that I could _make_ her clean up. I thought that I could _force_ her into seeing the truth.

And I couldn't.

I need her, too.

I miss her so much. I miss her cute little giggle she'd do when she was nervous or excited. I miss her in the mornings, when she'd grin at me on our corner and tell me to wake up already. I miss how she cried so hard when I had to move. I miss her, I miss her. I miss how much she cared.

I'm such a terrible person.

Before I know it, I've got spare clothes and a case of water bottles in my hands. I pack some nonperishable food, some medicine, and a map. I want to bring a phone or something, but that's traceable, and even leaving my city is seen as suspicious.

I sling my pack full of supplies over my back, ready to leave.

But I stop at the door, looking over at Diana's house. She's swirling a flower around and around in a vase of water, a bored expression on her face. All of her smarts that would be so useful in other districts, wasted on selling flowers.

I walk over to her stand and drum my fingers on the oak wood. "Hi," I say, a smile crossing my face albeit the weight in my stomach. "How're you?"

Her eyes light up. "Oh, hello, Elly! I'm okay." She frowns. "This is a rather boring district."

"That's why I'm going to a new one," I say simply.

Diana's lips part slightly as she stares at me, her wondrous brain trying to put things together. "What?"

"I'm going on a thirty-six day hike to Twelve so I can be with Ian and Primrose," I explain. "I'm here because I need you to come with me."

She runs a small hand through her hair. "Really?" Diana glances back at her house. "My parents…"

"Oh…right. Well. See you, then."

Diana bites her lip as I turn away, her brows contracted. "Wait."

I spin on my heel, glancing back at her. "Mm?"

Her hands are always active: twisting her hair, tapping her legs, rubbing the wood. "I'll come…but how will I get back?"

I freeze, this thought not having crossed my mind. "I'll get Haymitch to fly you back. He knows how. He has a pilot."

She nods, thinking. "Mama and Papa should be okay…they've got plenty of food, fresh water, money...Papa's doing better, he'll be good as new in a week or so…the medicine's running short, though…I'll be right back!"

Diana runs off, pulling some money out of her overalls pocket. I watch her sprint to a little shop, advertising morphling and other medicinal products. She's in there for a few minutes, and then is walked back out by a middle-aged man. She turns and waves, giving him a big hug. Then she comes rushing back, grasping a large pouch.

"Medicine for Papa," she exclaims. "He broke his back awhile ago, and it's taken a really long time for him to heal, since the doctors here are very bad and they work so far away. So I've been getting his supplies from Marvin's Medicine Mart. It suffices." Her face is shining. "I saved his life, he tells me. I'm his angel." She sounds so proud that it's adorable.

"Aww, that's so—amazing. That's amazing, Diana."

Her smile is so beautiful. She's going to be such a beautiful teenager and a beautiful woman. Her hair is as bright as the sun in the sky and her eyes are a light caramel color.

"Thank you. Now let me get this to Mama and explain what's going on. I'll be right back—again!" She tears toward her little brick house with the cute chimney up on the top. Her dog, a little, curly-haired thing, comes racing out, yipping and yapping its little heart out.

"Oh!" I squeal, and—although it is pathetic—I reach forward and gladly stroke its ears. "Hey, you!"

He rolls over, wagging his little toasted-brown tail. He's so cute. I scratch The Spot and he goes crazy, whimpering. Eventually he starts chasing a squirrel. He reminds me of my old dog, Benson. He was a small thing, but with light fur and straight, short cut hairs.

"So you've met Donald," Diana laughs. "Mama begged me not to go, but Papa took my side." She grins. "Let's go!"

She's got a pack in her hands as well, full of the same things as mine. But she thought more: she's got a flashlight, some plastic bags, paint, camouflage clothing, sunglasses, sleeping bags, and nightvision goggles. "I brought all I could. Oh, here's some iodine, too. And vitamins. We need to stay very healthy. Getting sick could be deadly."

I nod.

"Let's get going! Stay, Donald. Stay." Donald growls and whimpers at the same time.

"Can we take him?" I blurt out, and Diana laughs.

"Sure. As long as he doesn't cause too much trouble." Her smile is back.

We start toward the road. We've got a long hike ahead of us.


	19. Chapter 19

_Don't Look Back—Chapter 19_

**A/N: Hello, everyone! So in the beginning I intended for Primrose to walk to Twelve, but her Plan B one and a half worked, except she doesn't have to hide him. Now Elly and Diana are going! And who could forget Donald? Enjoy Ch. 19!**

Chapter 19—Questionable

Prim's POV

"So, we're probably going to need to disguise you, Ian. We don't want anyone to figure out who you are," Haymitch explains.

I look over at Ian, who's currently residing in my house in Victor's Village. We can't really open up a new one. That would raise major red flags. I—for obvious reasons—am over the moon about this living arrangement.

But my eyes shift to his, and I don't want him to change his appearance. His eyes are so green that they make emeralds pale. His hair is rich and brown and curls near his ears and back of his neck, and his bangs curl halfway down his forehead. His cheekbones are high and his eyelashes are long and he's very athletic—or was. Three years of sitting and staring out windows takes a toll on your body. His collarbone is very prominent when he sits forward and his fingers are long and deft, always moving.

He catches me looking at him and grins, my cheeks red. Crossing the room, he plucks me from the chair and sits me on his lap, those nimble fingers playing with my braid.

"Yeesh. Get a room," Haymitch comments, and it's Ian who blushes while I laugh.

"All in due time," I quip, making Ian flush further. I kiss his warm cheek, his smile returning.

"So anyway, I think we need a full plastic-surgery operation."

I slide off of Ian's lap. "No way."

"Primrose—" Ian begins.

"No! You can't just undergo plastic surgery, and completely change your face! That's—that's too questionable to do! Do you want to look like a Capitolite?" I can't explain how crucial it is to me that Ian looks like an Ian should. "You can't become one of them. Please, Haymitch. We don't have to do this."

Ian looks at me. "Hey. Hey, listen. If it's for the best—"

"—which it is," Haymitch snips.

"Yeah, which it is, then I think we have to do it."

I glare at him. "No, Ian, it's not for the best. What if suddenly I dyed my hair blue and pink, got cheek and forehead work done, and came out looking like a plastic doll?"

He sighs. "I guess that'd be pretty gruesome."

I snap my fingers. "Exactly: you'd hate my look. So that's case closed, right? C'mon, Ian, let's go make hot chocolate or something." I take his hand and attempt to pull him out of the chair. He latches onto my arm and yanks me back onto his lap, kissing my ear.

"I'd love to, but right now we've got to get the technical stuff out of the way, okay?"

"It's your birthday in two days, okay? I can't have you looking fake on your birthday." I sigh and lower my eyes. "I'm going to go."

"Primrose, wait…"

I'm out the door before he can answer. I close my eyes and see the rusty red on the inside of my eyelids, watching shapes form and dissipate. It's dizzying.

_Ian can't change the way he looks._

Deep down I know it's for the best, and I know it'll be helpful to keep us together. But I still don't want him looking like one of _them._ He can't look like the people who tore us apart.

No.

I walk back to my room and pick up a book, looking at the words but not seeing them. I'm supposed to be transported on a ship, the winds battering the cabin walls, but instead I'm trying to sail my own ship. I've gotten past the gale and the rocks and the waves, but there are still some obstacles: wind, rain, sharks. There's still so much that could go wrong. Not everything is perfect. I wasn't expecting that.

But as soon as we kill Snow, everything _will _line up. We're still on square one, but eventually—eventually—everything will be resolved and I'll be walking up the isle to Ian on my wedding day.

I "read" for about a half hour, and then get bored and walk to get my shoes. "I'm going for a walk!" I yell to Katniss, who smiles: I truly am her sister, since we both love the outdoors. But our outdoors are different. She loves the stillness of the wood air; I love the chatter and noises of a city environment. She is solitary, I am social. We are very different. But also very alike.

The air is slightly chilly: there's a scent of an early autumn in the air. I love the autumn. It's so crisp and so _obvious_: it doesn't hide behind spells of heat and spells of cold, it doesn't snow one day and warm the next. It's very predictable.

I step on each stone in front of my porch individually. My footsteps echo very quietly all around me. I smile as one of my school acquaintances passes me on the little path leading away from VV.

"Hello," I say, inclining my head.

"Greetings," he says back, stepping forward. "Primrose Everdeen, to what do I owe the favor?"

"I just recognized you from school. I think we have—Math together, right?" His head tilts, those dark brown eyes locked on mine. Flecked with blue, their pupils are hardly visible.

"No, History. I'd remember, no doubt. You're quite outgoing. I recall—you weren't always, were you? Very quiet before. And then you happen to be reaped. You fight. You flirt. You fall in love. You win. You come back, and suddenly you're as radiant as the sun. And then you're not." He shakes his head. "Girls are quite baffling."

I laugh; it rings in the air. His smile widens and something changes in his eyes. "Boys—oh my god—they're as confusing as it gets. One day they talk to you, the next day they ignore you! Oh and when they call you cute or pretty it lifts your spirits for life, and then they completely insult you! Augh! I'm just lucky I got a really sweet one, hmm?"

The boy nods and screws his face up in thought. "You've got a boyfriend. I remember. Just not his name—Ethan?"

"Close. It's Ian. Ian Reseda. He's really—just flawless."

"Well, don't you want to know my name?" the boy says abruptly, smiling.

"Oh—yes! No, wait. I _recall—_Wes?"

The boy nods, grinning. "You do remember."

"So, Wes, how's school? I've taken a break to study abroad. Special victor perks," I convince him with a small wink.

This is the story I've told everyone.

"Oh, wow. Where did you study?"

"District 4."

"That's really quite wonderful. But to answer your question, school is extremely boring without you there. I recall you making everyone laugh, staging pep rallies, handing out candy just because you could. For a few weeks, you were a firework. And then, you were just another blade of grass down below."

I flush. "Really."

"Really."

"Well, I guess you were a blade of grass with me, huh?"

He laughs. "Oh no. I was the rosebush."

I shove Wes's shoulder. "Shut up. You were definitely a worm."

Wes smiles. "C'mon. I was just about to get some hot chocolate. Nothing like hot chocolate to celebrate such a crisp day." He slings an arm around my shoulder and we walk like that for awhile.

I'm aware that he's touching my shoulders, I'm aware that he's practically taking me on a date. But I really need this. I need a friend. Not just Ian. I need a friend who isn't always kissing me or holding my hand. Someone I can walk with like it's nothing special. Like _oh there's two teens hanging out_, not _oh jeez, there's two teens fooling around, ugh, they're making out_. Wes is a really confident, pompous guy. But I really don't care. It's nice, seeing him be so sure of himself. He doesn't doubt a thing.

"Hey, since I hardly know you, wanna play 'Favorites'?" I ask.

"Yes, can I start?"

"Sure."

"What's your favorite beverage?"

"Ooh, um…probably what we're going to get right now. My turn. What's your favorite candy?"

"Red licorice. Yours?"

"The little hard candies that they sell in the center of town. The ones that stain your lips red. Okay. What's your favorite…flower?"

"What I am."

"Oh, be quiet. Mine is a primrose."

"Ahaha. I wonder why."

"Hey, they're pretty."

"Like you."

"Thanks."

"Okay, you might realize that I am currently complimenting you a lot."

"That may be the case."

"I simply am a complimenting person."

"That's a lovely trait."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. What's your favorite color?"

"So predictable."

"Shut. Up."

"It's a vivid red."

"Mine changes with the weather. Today is happens to be royal blue."

"Delicious."

"Quite."

"What's your favorite season?"

"Autumn."

"Mine too. I like the colors."

"I like its obviousness."

"Hahahaha."

"Hey."

"That's peculiar and extravagant and that's perfect. _What's your favorite season? Autumn. Why? I like its obviousness. _Hahahahahaha."

"Hahahaha. Okay. That's pretty funny. What's your favorite…landscape?"

"A breeze blowing on a hillside while I lie on my back staring at the sky."

"Wow. Mine is a beach at sunset, full of flowers, next to someone who loves me."

"Peculiar."

"Quite."

"So your favorite book is…?"

"_Plants Moste Complexe._ It's very old and very—life changing. I learned so much from it and I still read it daily."

"Mine's just a book about a boy washed up on a beach. That's all, basically. Oh, this is the shop."

The constant stream of dialogue stops. I frown. I like Wes. He's funny, he's curious, he's smart. I like that he doesn't keep secrets about anything and how willing he was to play Favorites.

I don't love Wes in the way I love Ian. I don't love him like Ian loved Elly.

I just like him.

We sit in a booth as a grimy-looking, frowning waitress shuffles over to us.

"Welcome to Corner Coffees. Order?"

"Two hot chocolates, please," Wes fires with a smile.

"Right away," the waitress mutters, and scoots back to the kitchen.

"Yikes," I say when she's out of earshot, and Wes laughs. "How much business do they get here?"

"Almost zero. We're the first in about a week, probably. It's because everything is so expensive, by Twelve standards. I mean, in Four this would be flocked to daily. But in Twelve, the starving district, only stale bread is affordable."

"How do you afford it?" I blurt out, and instantly feel bad.

"My mom actually works in Two for the Capitol. I have no idea how she got the job, but she did, and every week a big fat check for a thousand dollars arrives. We usually have two, three hundred dollars left by Saturday."

"Oh, wow. That's awesome."

He nods. "Yes, albeit my mother isn't home more than two days a time. She's always jetting off somewhere new, her fingers ready to tap keys or input codes." He sighs. "I miss her, mostly."

"Yeah. I miss my dad too." I flick a piece of paper across our table. "He was blown up in a mining accident awhile ago."

"Huh. That's interesting. Most miners aren't in the vicinity of the explosive when it actually does explode. His chances of getting hit were small."

I look at Wes sideways. Why isn't he apologizing, or giving me The Eyes, or putting a hand on my shoulder, or crying? That's what everyone does.

"Yeah. So, um…oh, our drinks!"

The grumpy waitress brings me a diversion. Wes smiles at her. "Thank you, miss."

"That'll be ten dollars."

_Who could ever afford this here, in Twelve? This is for regal people, not coal miners!_

"Yes ma'am." Wes digs out fifteen dollars and slaps them on the table. "Keep the change."

The waitress seems confused and upset. "That's not how it works around here," she explains unhappily, taking only the ten. "Not how it works." Lumbering back to the cashier, she mutters to herself about crazy lovers and drunken teens. Wes smiles wider.

"What is up with you and your constant happiness here?" I whisper.

"A lot of people think that I'm crazy. I love being that Wes. I love being Crazy Wes, not Formal Wes or Lonely Wes or Quiet Wes. Crazy Wes is the real me." His smile is as wide as the moon and as bright as the sun.

"Yeah, it is," I say with a wink, and he tips his head back and laughs. I'm just about to comment on the (although stale) mini marshmallows in the chocolate when a band of Peacekeepers comes in, Thread leading them. I stare them down as coldly and as heatedly as I can. They ripped Ian from my arms. They encaged him where they thought I couldn't get to him.

But they were _wrong._

"Morning, Gladys," Thread proclaims. Even when he's happy his voice is icy. "The usual, if you will."

"Right away, sirs," our grumpy waitress says—now smiling. "How's the day going?"

"Some bastard's broken a shut-in out of Ten," he states, now angered. "I've got no idea how, but they breached all security. The cameras were effing disabled. Now we've got a convict and a band of rule-breakers on the loose. Rest assured we will find and execute them."

My heart freezes and a shudder finds its way up my back. Wes notices this and quickly, quietly asks, "I know. It's gruesome. Are you cold?" I shake my head, bile stinging my throat. "Okay. Just let me know if you need anything." I nod this time, my hair coming out of its bun. I normally love messy buns, but I really can't feel anything at this moment.

"Oh, you poor dears," Gladys is saying to the band of Peacekeepers. "Riley, how's the wife?"

There are five Peacekeepers. Thread is in the middle, with two on each side. The one on the farthest right speaks up. "Good. We're expecting." His voice is toneless. I feel venom pierce my heart. Who could ever, _ever_ marry a Peacekeeper?

"That's lovely! Boy or girl?"

Riley shrugs.

"Oh. Okay. Joseph, sugar, did you ever fix up that leak?" The one directly on Thread's left nods.

"Yeah, it was a strong one. Held its own!" Joseph guffaws, Gladys joining in. Thread's eyes flash, his mask having been off since he walked in. I can tell he takes pain from pleasure and pleasure from pain.

That. Dirty. Lying. Scheming. Stupid. Idiot.

Gladys smiles and addresses the rest of the Peacekeepers: Patrick, Edmund, and Carson. They all are extremely dull and colorless. I honestly couldn't tell you what any of them said. I was too busy trying not to kill all of them with my bare hands. How can you laugh when you are so plainly destroying lives? How can you do nothing while you are so clearly burning down the very fibers of being?

"Okay, you're clearly on fire." Wes's whisper surprises me. I stand shakily and slam my cup on the table. The Peacekeepers' heads all turn.

"Morning," I say through gritted teeth.

"Good morning, darling," Thread greets.

"How are you?" I don't care. I don't give a damn. I don't care.

"Lovely. You? And your boyfriend?"

"I'm great. He's not my boyfriend but he's great too. See you around."

"Good day, miss."

Wes steers me out before I blow my top. His hair falls casually, though messily, across his face. He's actually quite good-looking, in the doesn't-really-know-it type of way. I don't feel weird about thinking that, because I know I don't love him love him. I remember that from third or fourth grade: "I know who you like!" "Do you _like_ him like him?"

I remember when those were the biggest of my worries.

Then Dad died, Mom became a shadow, Katniss was reaped, I was reaped…

Wes stares at me the whole way out, but it is a good stare. A concerned stare. His eyes are big and brown and his lips, chiseled and fair, are slightly parted. His fingertips lightly push me forward, just a tiny bit of pressure between my shoulder blades. And his footsteps are hastened, a sort of panicky fast.

"What's the matter?" Wes asks softly. "Is everything okay?"

"_No,_ everything is _not_ okay!" I yell, tears stinging my eyes. "They're just—they can't—"

I'm crying, crying into Wes's shoulder as he leads me back toward VV. "Shh. Yeah, I know. They're quite terrible, really. It's okay, Prim."

"No it's not," I sob, but I know he's trying. I'm bawling into his chest and I met him an hour ago. That's weird, yeah, but I feel so comfortable around Wes that it's not. "I'm sorry for b-breaking down like this," I apologize. "But—there's—I can't—" I start up again. Wes walks me until I can hold my own. "I'm sorry for being a c-creep," I say breathily.

"You are no creep," he says with a smile. "You are a beautiful, funny, intelligent problem-solver who does nothing but good. You are an elegant, poised, brave girl who has her feet underneath her. You are amazing."

I smile back at him. "Thanks, Wes. You're just—you're great. You're absolutely fantastic."

His eyes are ablaze. "I know."

We walk, just chitchatting, the rest of the way with no interruptions. Wes is very funny, just full of fabulous quips. He seems to think that I'm a riot, though, because rarely are we not giggling.

Ian is waiting at the gate of VV, and he doesn't look very happy. He is obviously even less pleased to see a handsome guy with me, making me crack up every three seconds.

He must be on fire when Wes kisses my cheek goodbye.

"New friend?" he asks icily.

"I guess so," I say. He will not become jealous of Wes. Not after Elly, not after that. No. Way. "Yeah. He's awesome."

"Oh. So you take the opportunity to—after I try to negotiate with you—go meet your other boyfriend? You're cheating on me now, after everything?"

"No! No, Ian, that's not it! That's Wes, from school! I was walking because you guys ganged up on me again and so he was walking too and we were talking and he's just the complimenting type! That was friendly, the kiss on the cheek!"

"So every time you do it to me, it's friendly?"

"No, Ian!" I breathe heavily. "How can you be mad at me after _Elly?_"

He freezes. "Yeah. You're right. I'm sorry. I believe you." He steps closer. I step closer. I consider stepping away as he leans in to kiss me, but I don't, because I don't want to be mad. I don't want to be mad. I'm not mad.

So I kiss him back.

He's running a hand through my hair and I'm moving my fingers up and down his back and we're doing a sort of two-step and then he's spinning me around while I laugh insanely, loving him.

Ian scoops me up in his arms and kisses me all over my face. Then our lips connect again and we are two stars in an empty sky.

Elly's POV

"Diana, could you _please_ keep Donald calm? I would rather he didn't wander off and set off a bomb or something."

Diana turns and faces me. Her expression is pure sarcasm. "Oh ya, sure," she says through gritted teeth. "I'll just tell him to walk in a straight line, right?" Her formal voice has been dropped due to the unusual late-September heat, the bugs, and the weariness of her legs. "He'll listen for _sure._"

"You didn't have to come!" I snap.

"I did too. I have to see Ian and Primrose again, you idiot."

"Do not call me idiot."

Her hip juts out and her hand is promptly placed on it. "I'll call you what_ever_ I want."

I roll my eyes and speed up slightly, so I'm not even with her. I check and double check the map, making absolute sure that we are still on the right track. If we get lost—which we most likely will—we're dead. There's no way we can survive. Winter is hiding behind a brief warm—more like boiling—spell. Soon it'll get cold. I know it'll get cold while we're walking. It'll be end-of-October, early November by the time we get to Twelve.

Will we go back?

Surely Diana will. Her parents are back there.

But I have no one but Ian and Primrose.

Will Primrose welcome me with open arms, or will she simply size me up and freeze me with those cold looks she always could pull off? Will Ian do the same?

What if I walk thirty-six days for nothing?

_No. Don't think that. Just focus. _

_ Life will be better there._

_ Assuming I can live long enough to make it better…_

"Diana, could you—"

"HE'S ON THE DAMN TRACK!"

I quiet. She's never been this angry before, ever. She's never sworn to me or anyone else.

"That's not what I was going to ask," I murmur. "Could you check the compass and make sure we're facing north?"

Diana's face softens. "Oh. Ya. Sorry." She digs the compass out and concentrates on it for a few seconds. "We're fine," she announces. "Just a _little_ bit left—ya—okay. Good."

I wipe my already-perspiring forehead and trudge onward, staring at the leaves that haven't even begun to change colors yet. Again I remember that Capitol hovercrafts can be colorless, transparent, invisible…I shake my head and touch my fingers to my cheeks.

Two out of thirty-six days done. We're a quarter of the way into our third day. Diana and I have been conserving our food but we're not hungry. However, we do eat a variety of food to keep ourselves nurtured. A few bites of dried fruit and vegetables, a strip of meat, a hunk of bread, a swig of milk, a drink of water. That's basically the routine for meals. Our walking routine is taking a break every two hours. It's only a ten-minute break, sure, but it's enough to rub some dirt onto our skin to keep the bugs away and take a sip of water. We camp out every night at midnight, alternating watches. Then we rise at eight and keep going.

We're basically unstoppable at this point.

Really, it'll take probably around forty days to get to Twelve, with the breaks and nights and slow mornings. So technically we've got thirty-eight days left.

The best thing about this trip is that there's no time limit. We can take as long a journey as we need. I'm just pushing to get there quickly.

Diana seems to be chugging along pretty well, although sometimes she just can't keep walking and we have to stop. I can't stand when that happens and I keep losing my temper with her. She is a fiery little beast, though, and she screams right back at me. We're going to get found if this keeps up, but I literally just lose control sometimes. I'm so passionate about this trip, about getting to Ian and Prim. I will get there if it kills me.

It probably will, to be honest. But, like I've said before, I really _**DO NOT CARE**_ at this moment in time.

"Diana, do you want to take a break?" My voice is concerned and soft.

Diana's whole body is reddish, and sweat is pouring off her forehead. Her skinny arms and legs tremble and her hair is incredibly limp. I curse myself a million times over for ignoring her.

She shakes her head.

"Yes, you need one."

"No," she wheezes. "I'm fine."

I gently sit her down and grab a water bottle. We've got another two packs, so I'm not worried in the slightest about giving her an extra. Donald races over, tongue wagging as I pour some of Diana's water into a plastic bowl for him, dividing it in half. He laps it up immediately and rubs his head against my leg.

Diana drinks gingerly, so as not to swallow the whole thing in one gulp. _It's much better to drink slowly and let the fluid slosh around you insides rather than drinking the whole thing. Slow, you get more hydration. Fast, you get more stomach pain. _I remember telling her this before we started. She nodded to every word.

Now the poor thing is practically dying of heat. Oh my god, what if she gets heatstroke? Oh my god.

Her golden hair is more of a bush-brown color, her eyes dimmed to nearly tan. Once a rich, caramel color, she is now losing her vibrancy. It's like turning down the volume on Diana. Diana, low volume. Diana, low-definition.

I don't like it, but we have to keep going. If we stay any longer, she'll fall asleep, and I'm terrified to see if she'll wake up or not.

"Come on, Di," I whisper. "Let's go."

She looks at me plainly, begging silently to stay.

"Come on, sweetie," I simper again.

Diana heaves a deep breath and clambers to her feet.

"Okay," she coughs.

"Let's go."


	20. Chapter 20

_Don't Look Back—Chapter 20_

**A/N: Wow, twenty chapters! I love you all so much! Your support keeps this fanfiction alive. Let's go, team PD & DLB! Enjoy this spectacular story's twentieth chapter!**

Chapter 20—A Brand New Image

Cassia's POV

_Two weeks later_

"Hi, Cass!" Prim's sweet little voice sounds from behind me. I whirl around, my stomach feeling like it's about to collapse. "Oh, sorry. Are you feeling okay?"

I shake my head. "Nah, but it's alright. Just a cold." I ruffle her hair, my hand feeling like electricity. Whenever I touch Prim, I feel a wildfire erupt in my stomach and a static explosion in my brain. It's like an error report. ERROR ERROR 401 NOT FOUND PRIMROSE ERROR PRIM ERROR. I can't think straight around her.

She stands on her tiptoes and leans forward, her nose inches from mine. I can count every freckle on her face and every lash framing her big blue eyes. "Katniss spilled," she states, her eyes closed. A single tear slips between the lids, followed by many others. "Cassia James," Primrose whispers. "Why did you tell me?"

I feel a few tears of my own trail down my cheeks. "I couldn't," I admit. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"I thought you were less of a cliché." Her head turns away, so I see only half of her face. "You know I'm stronger than that. I could take it." And then her hand is squeezing mine and I feel every color of the rainbow. "Cass, you're sick."

"_Mange lentement corps,_" I say softly, biting my lip. Prim holds a slightly shaking hand up to her eyes.

"No."

I nod.

"No!"

I nod again, gravely.

"NO! I REFUSE TO ACCEPT IT! CASSIA JAMES, YOU ARE NOT SICK, YOU ARE WAITING TO BE CURED! I WILL SEE TO IT THAT THE BEST DOCTORS IN TOWN GET YOU WELL AGAIN!" She brings my face down so it's level with hers again. I see only beauty. "I swear on my life."

I shake my head. "I won't let you do that. If I die—"

"—I die too," she states.

"No, Primrose!"

"If you go, I go. A life for a life. A soul for a soul. I'd rather be with you, okay? I'd rather be with you." Her breath hitches for a second. I can tell she's realizing something.

She told someone else the same thing, didn't she?

I feel like I'm drowning and falling off a cliff at the same time. I feel like vomiting. I feel like giving up on her. I should give up on her. She's got Ian to love, she's got Katniss to take care of her, she's got Peeta as a father figure, she's got her mother to look after, she's got Elly to reunite and be best friends with.

And she's got me to deal with.

I'm just a burden to her. I'm literally making every step difficult for her. I'm like the rock that that one dude, that one Greek or Roman or whatever dude has to push up a hill. And every time he gets to the top or close to the top the rock rolls all the way back down again and he has to start over. And he does this for eternity.

I guess Primrose is lucky I won't last for eternity.

Elly's POV

We're in the heart of Eleven, shrouded by a canopy of trees. Thankfully these woods will eventually give into Twelve's woods, and we'll be free. Or at least I'll be free. Diana will be safely flown back by Haymitch to Ten, where she'll live off the money Ian gave her and be happy.

I'll be happy too, because I can finally set things right with Primrose.

We still have twenty-two days to cover, but Diana's recovered from her brief heat-induced sickness, Donald's behaving perfectly, and we're on track to actually make it in two weeks instead of three and a day. So instead of twenty-two, we could make fourteen.

I'm literally so excited that if you tied me to a single balloon I'd float right into the clouds.

"Hey, Elly, I'm a little bored," Diana says, tugging on my shirt sleeve. "Wanna play I Spy?"

I force a smile. _Keep her contained. The heat's died down and we're so close. Just keep her calm. _"Sure, Di. Anything for you." There's a tiny drop of sarcasm in there that's not really sarcasm because I love Diana in the way you love a sister: you fight but you also have fun together.

"I Spy something green."

"The trees."

"No. Guess again."

"The grass."

"No, stupid. Good guesses, now."

"The leaves."

"Leaves are part of the trees."

"The moss."

"You suck at this."

"The slightest hint of green in your mostly covered-up hair caused by your elastic ponytail band."

"Yes! Good job, El! Your turn!"

I sigh. "I Spy something blue."

"Oh! The navy of your shoes!"

"No."

"The flash of that blue jay's wing?"

"No."

"The flower over there, by the stream?"

"No."

"The tiniest bit of a dark, mystical blue color shown by the robin over there?"

"No."

"Um…the…sky?"

"Yes."

"I WIN!"

"Why do you like this game?" I ask, annoyed. "It's not a very…"

"Entertaining game? Yeah, I know. I just like looking for things and noticing things." She smiles and tucks her hair behind her ears. "Let's keep going."

_Day 15_

Nothing interesting.

_Day 16_

Diana nearly falls off a cliff. Lecture her for an hour about safety before continuing onward.

_Day 17_

Veeery close call with Peacekeeper. He came right over to where we were hiding and screamed for us to come out with our hands up. Diana turns out to be an absolute genius and scampers over about twenty yards away and starts crying. The Peacekeeper sprints over there as she sprints back. We escape.

_Days 18-21_

Nothing.

_Day 22_

We reach District 12's borders. We do a quick celebration involving a feast and keep going.

_Day 23-26_

Nothing.

_Day 27_

We're so close to Victor's Village now. One to two more days should do it.

_THE DAY_

"DIANA!" I shout. "THERE'S THE SEAM! THERE IT IS! VICTOR'S VILLAGE IS RIGHT THERE! I CAN SEE IT!"

"WE DID IT, ELLY!" she screams back.

I do a kind of insanely happy jig. Diana starts singing a song that consists of one verse: "We did it, we did it, we got here, oh ya, ya, ya."

I spin her around and kiss her forehead. I love her so much right now. "Let's go! Let's go see them!" I scream.

We literally sprint the rest of the way, until we reach the Victor's Village gates. We push open the doors and enter, taking in the view of the beautiful houses and neatly trimmed gardens.

I literally have no idea how we did it this fast. I think it was some kind of miracle. Some kind of power working through us to get there. It sounds so incredibly cheesy, but I kinda like the idea of something supernatural like that.

The light of two out of three houses is on. My heart literally freezes for a second before I realize he's probably living with Primrose.

A little pang of jealousy amidst all the happiness echoes in my chest. He's been living with her all this time, enjoying himself, not even worrying about Eleanor Opal…

Nevertheless, I sprint up to the bold mahogany door. Diana follows, Donald at her heels.

"Knock!" Diana whispers, and I notice her formal accent has returned. "Oh, just knock already! It's quite simple, you know."

I knock three times, my knuckles rapping the hard wood.

The door creaks open. Primrose has her head turned, saying "Just a minute, Ian!"

And then she sees me.

Her mouth falls open, her eyes popping. "Oh my GOD, ELLY!" She hugs me so tightly I can't breathe. I smile and laugh so giddily that it hardly sounds human. She's crying, I'm crying, we're just embracing each other.

Every wrong is made right.

Every rip is repaired.

Our friendship is no longer maimed.

It is I who pull away first, to get a good look at her face. God, she's so beautiful. Even I know that. She's always been the prettier one. She's grown much, much taller since I've last seen her, and she's tanned and cropped her hair slightly. She looks so happy, so different from the Emo Primrose.

"Look at you!" she exclaims throatily. "You're so pretty! You're so tall!"

"I was going to say the same to you," I reply with the world's goofiest smile plastered on my face. "You look so happy."

"I am happy. I'm happi_er_ now that you're here! C'mon in, bring the whole gang!" Primrose grins at Diana and scratches behind Donald's ear. "How did you get here?" she asks. "Did you fly?"

"We walked," I state.

Her jaw drops again.

"No fricking way," she whispers, in awe. I nod. Diana vouches for me.

"Yes, it was quite a grueling walk. It was extremely warm. I nearly died along the way of heat illness."

Primrose ruffles Diana's hair. "Well, I'm glad you didn't, because you seem like a very colorful girl. But seriously. You walked? How long did it take you?"

"I believe it was a miracle that happened," I state, unashamed. "I think it was some kind of superpower, because I can't believe it took less than a month."

"Me either."

"It took twenty-eight days."

"OH MY GOD, ELLY! That really is supernatural!" Primrose screams. "Ian, get your butt in here now!"

My heart flutters. Ian comes strolling in. "What's all the yelling abo…ut…Elly?"

"Ian," I say, and run up to hug him. He hugs me back, quick and hard, but backs away.

"What are you doing here?" He seems almost upset.

"I walked to Twelve."

"What I was gonna do, remember?" Primrose says, putting an arm around me. "I was going to walk to Twelve too, but thankfully Haymitch went along with my plan. Also Katniss stuck her nose in my papers, and I was really mad. But she promised to help me and viola, we rescued Ian."

"Why not me?" I ask softly, instantly feeling conceited.

"That's what I said," Primrose says sourly, glaring over at still-shell-shocked Ian. "I thought he had some separate plan for awhile, and then it dawned on me that he was planning to leave you. Yeah, that's right, I'm telling her! She deserves to know!" she snaps at Ian, who is mouthing words at her. "I tried; I swear I tried to get them to leave. But no one listened to crazy little Primrose. I was going to break into the hovercraft and fly it to you, but then you showed up! And now I'm the happiest I've been since I got the love of my life back." Prim kisses my cheek.

"Elly," Ian says, speaking quietly. "I'm really sorry I didn't turn around to get you. I should've—I should've—god, I should've done more." His voice is now throaty. "I'm sorry."

I face him, my mouth dry.

"Can we go somewhere…private?" I ask. "Is that okay?"

Primrose faces me warily. "Yeah. Go up to my room. Second door to the left upstairs."

Haymitch, drunk, calls after us, "Don't 'ave too mutch fun up dare!"

I don't see Prim's expression but I assume the worst as I trod up the steps, Ian behind me. His hands skim the railing and once brush my back. Whether accidentally on purpose I don't know. I wring my hands as we enter the hallway and step into Prim's room.

It smells like flowers and something warm, probably a lingering scent from Peeta downstairs, who seems to currently be baking something downstairs. There's a picture of a beautiful wave and ocean behind it, I guess symbolizing her as The Wave. Her bedspread is the same color as the water, and her ceiling currently has a very realistic cloud floating slowly across a pale blue sky. I realize that it's programmed to look like the sky outside. It's beautiful. Her floor is a sandy color. Her walls are such a faint blue it's nearly white. Huge windows line the nearly-white-but-blue walls, and a large balcony protrudes from the side of one of them. A desk, a lamp, and a swivel chair sit in one of the corners, along with a laptop and a phone. A mirror is stuck to the back of the door. Her door is magnificent. She must've painted it, and it's her name made of clouds above an oceanside. Her room is like stepping onto a beach. I love it.

It's too bad I can't feel anything but cold.

The boy I love, the boy I _loved,_ is sitting beside me on Primrose's bed. A teddy bear sits on it. I wonder if Ian gave it to her.

I'm no longer jealous of her.

"Elly," Ian says simply. "I really…I really am sorry."

"I know." I breathe through my nose, hard. "I know, and I accept your apology. It's just…why didn't you get me? Why not both of us? Why put me—us, actually, since Diana and her dog were with me—through all of the pain? She nearly died on the way here of heat. I just—I totally forgive you, okay? You don't need to feel guilty. I'm not mad. I'm just disappointed." I close my eyes again. "I thought I meant more to you."

"You mean so much to me you could never imagine," Ian says, running a hand down my arm. I turn away.

"No. Ian, don't _do_ this. I know you're trying. I know that, and I'm grateful that you at least try. But don't lure me into believing that you love me. I know you don't love me like you love Primrose. I loved you romantically, you loved me friendly. That's it. Game over."

Ian's fingers brush my back again.

I stand.

"Ian."

"Elly, hear me out. I love Primrose, and not you. I loved you for a while, blinded by loss and stuff. That sounds like Shakespeare but I don't care. I don't care because look at you! You walked all the way here for _me._" He stands too, and looks me dead in the eyes. I stare at him, lips slightly parted and eyes wide as dinner plates. I'm frozen.

"And that makes you one of my best friends, Elly."

I move all at once. My fist smashes into his gut and my foot connects with something hard, probably a shin. I push him up against the wall, the hatred all of a sudden blazing hot. I smack my hand, as fast as I can, across his face. His cheek turns blood-blush red. I lean in close, my hair falling over my face. How maniacal I must look.

"You listen up and you listen _close_," I whisper, my breaths even but sharp. "You can't seduce me into falling in love with you again. You just can't."

"I'm not trying to, Elly!" he exclaims. "I'm just trying to say that you're my friend! I want to be friends! Think about it! Think! All those times, just now, that I tried to hug you, or hold you, to make sure you'd be okay! All those times I loved you and you rejected me! All those times you started loving me and I realized that I didn't love you! You keep pushing me away, drawing me back in, pushing me away, drawing me back in! How do you keep me falling for your tricks? How do you keep me feeling so guilty? How do you do it?"

I feel my brain go into overdrive. I still feel like it's his fault. I still feel like that.

Even though I know he's right.

"I don't know, Ian, I didn't even know what I was doing." My voice is timid, trembling. "I'm…I…"

"Just—god, Elly. You come all this way to see me and then you beat me up! Leave me alone," he growls. "Don't talk to me. Go ahead; jabber your mouth off to Primrose. I don't care. But if you hurt her, if you make her like she was before, so help me you will wake up at the bottom of the ocean." He turns on his heel and stalks out of the room.

I sit on the bed, crying. I didn't expect arriving at Twelve to be like this. I expected Ian's hugs (that was my fault), Primrose's smiles (that happened), and just full-out laughter and partying all night.

Instead I am alone in a beautiful room, sobbing.

Fun.


	21. Chapter 21

_Don't Look Back—Chapter 21_

**A/N: Hello loves! My school year is OVER! Ah, sweet summer. I might have to do a tropical vacation chapter, *winks*. Anyway, this chapter will mainly just be a break from all the sadness that Elly's going through, all the pain that Cassia's going through, all the stress that everyone's going through. THIS is going to be a Katniss and Prim sisterly chapter, and—I love writing these—a Prian chapter. Enjoy it—it's long! Enjoy Ch. 21!**

Chapter 21—Katniss and Ian and Primrose

Prim's POV

I'm so happy that Elly's here. I'm so happy that Diana's here. I'm so happy that Ian's happy.

I'm just really, really happy.

Katniss walks up to me and hands me a glass of orange juice. I smile at her: I love orange juice. She does too. It's kind of like a sister thing that we share: orange juice, the outdoors, and music.

"How's life?" Katniss asks, a smiling toying across her lips.

"Amazing," I answer. "I'm so happy right now." I run my finger around the ring of my glass, watching the liquid inside slosh around as I move it. "Thanks for the juice."

"Oh, you're welcome." She sips hers. "D'you want to do something today? Just you and me? Maybe go to the Centre, buy some new shoes for you, window shop, anything you want."

"Sure!" I exclaim joyously. "Let's window shop."

Katniss stands, grinning, and finishes off her drink. "Whenever you're ready, just find me, okay?" She kisses the top of my head and walks upstairs.

I go up to my room, putting on some new clothes. I ditch the baggy sweatpants and the gray t-shirt, changing into a pair of black leggings and a long, oversized white sweater, knit and warm. I pull my hair back into a messy french braid and slip on some black sneakers. I look ready for winter, but also very cutesy and girlish. I look messy in a good way. I hate admitting it, but I look pretty. The colors go with my eyes and my hair very well.

I walk back downstairs and crack open my book. I'm nearly done, but I just can't seem to find the time to finish it off. I only read about a paragraph a minute, because although the book is fantastic, it's really hard to keep up with. After about five paragraphs I set it down, words swimming in my brain, words that barely make sense.

Ian comes down from "his room"—the guest room—and yawns. He's such a late sleeper that it's laughable. But as his eyes fall on me, he freezes, mouth open.

"Whoa," he says, walking over and placing his hands on my hips. "Whoa."

I smirk at him and kiss him playfully, running my nose down his cheeks.

"You're so beautiful no matter what you wear," he says, in awe, his fingers moving up my torso and landing on my shoulders. He pulls me closer to him. His mouth so close to my ear I feel it move, he whispers "I love you so much." I smile and kind of run my hands up and down his back. He's shirtless, which makes the moment even more romantic. I feel his muscles, his shoulderblades, the rise and fall of his chest. I feel everything working like gears fit together. He kisses my neck and I have to laugh when he starts tickling me. I fall onto the couch and he smiles down at me, pulling me back up to my feet.

"That was awesome," I say dreamily, still tasting him on my lips.

"You're the awesome part," he murmurs to me, kissing my fingertips. "I just helped."

"Go get dressed," I say with a laugh, smacking him with one of the pillows adorning the couch. He laughs too, and hits me with another one. I pretend to collapse. But then I lash out again, catching him in the back. He feigns dying, falling back onto the couch, shouting "Goodbye world! Goodbye Primrose! Goodbye Primrose's lips! Goodbye, my love!00"

"You don't have to say goodbye to my lips," I explain to him, sitting down on his lap and kissing him again. His hands work up my back and rest at the base of my neck so I'm incredibly close to him. I smell sleep on him, and it is wonderful. My hands curl around his body, one at his stomach and one on his shoulder. We kiss so passionately, our lips working furiously. We remain there for quite some time, our mouths joined, reveling in each other.

Finally we break apart. His arms wrap around me, pulling me against his chest. I tap my fingers against his leg. "I'm going window shopping with Katniss soon," I say. "But maybe we can cook a fancy dinner for ourselves tonight."

"Oh god, I can't cook."

"Please? It'll be really fun. I'll make Katniss and Elly leave so we'll have the whole house to ourselves. Haymitch will be out all night at the bar, Cassia's in the hospital, and Effie's got some party thing that'll last till tomorrow. It'll be just us. Please?"

Ian kisses my hand softly. "Anything for you."

I smile and wrap my arms around him. "Thank you! We can make whatever you like! As long as it'll take at least two hours to make. And then we can watch a movie, and it'll be one big date night. It's going to be really fun." I kiss his nose gently, my eyelashes fluttering on his skin. He closes his eyes.

"Sometimes you really bring out my soft side," he says, and I laugh.

But I have to stand and I do stand, extending a hand to him. He takes it and sinks into a sort of bow, propped up on one knee. "Until we meet again, m'lady," Ian says, kissing my palm. I smile and curtsey. "Goodbye for now, my love."

I blow him a kiss and walk into the kitchen, where Katniss sits, reading some hunting book that she's already read about fifty times. When she sees me she smiles, closes it, and tosses it on the counter. "Ready?" she asks, a smile on her face.

"Let's go!" I exclaim, smiling back.

Katniss opens the door and walks into the cool late-morning air, drinking in the outdoors. I flip the sweater over my wrists slightly so that only the tips of my fingers are exposed. My sneakers make soft _whack_ noises on the brick and gravel roads. The coffee shop Wes and I went to is this way.

"Anything you're shopping for in particular?" Katniss asks.

"New shoes, some new sweaters, new sweatpants, new shorts, and new tank tops. I could use some new t-shirts and winter hats and mittens, too. Basically anything I like, I get. Also we can get you some new hunting boots. For the snow."

Katniss grins. "Sweet."

We walk for awhile, chitchatting about hunting and winter and Ian and Elly. It's nice, talking to someone about everything I've been thinking about. I tell her about our date night that we have planned. She smiles and tells me she thinks it's a phenomenal idea. Of course she'll leave the premises, she says, she'll go over to Peeta's for a date night of their own.

"How's Peeta been? I haven't seen much of him."

"He's fine. We just hit a huge bump in the road before." She smiles as she says "Peeta and I've finally cleared the water. Oh my god, there he is now!"

Peeta comes jogging along, his biceps exposed in the tank top he has on. "Hey, love," he says to Katniss, kissing her. "Hi Prim."

"Hi Peeta!" I give him a quick hug. "Katniss and I are window shopping."

"Oh, nice. I'm not much of a browser."

Katniss grins. "Hey, I'll be over at your place tonight. Prim and Ian need the whole house to themselves."

"We're having a date night," I say crossly.

"Yeah, so I figured we'd have one of our own," Katniss says with a smile to Peeta. Peeta nods and runs a hand through his damp hair.

"That'd be great," he says, smiling. He kisses Katniss's forehead. "I gotta run. I've got to get home and then come back to get ingredients for our _date night._ Bye!" He waves as he jogs away. Katniss smiles after him, and then down at me.

"So. Anything you want, you buy?"

"That's pretty much the plan," I agree.

I can see the boutiques and stores that line the Centre. One advertises free food to all who volunteer to work. Another states that all those who join get tesserae to feed their whole family.

Sadly I doubt any of them can keep their promises.

"Which one first?" Katniss says, albeit with forced happiness. I can tell she hates seeing the empty offers.

"Hmm. How about Cara's Boutique?" I point toward a grubby-looking brick building with a washed-out sign that reads C RA S BO TIQ E. The door is covered in a thin layer of grease, and a cracked bell rings quietly as we enter.

Racks of astoundingly nice clothing line the wall. Shoes on tables glint from every which way and large displays are symmetrical all around the area. It's much larger on the inside than the outside.

"Wow." Katniss holds up a dark green hiking boot. "Holy crap."

"I know," I say, nodding.

A middle-aged woman with her hair in ringlets walks out from behind a door near the desk. "Oh, hello!" she greets us. "I'm Cara. If you folks need anything, just holler." Cara smiles as she turns away, calling "Jimmy! When are those orders coming in, huh?"

I walk over to the clothing racks. I eye a black sweater, just a plain black sweater, and pluck it from its rack. Then I pull a red long-sleeved shirt and a white t-shirt with a black dragon on it out as well. A pair of blue sneakers are next. A yellow dress with small purple flowers on it and a black knitted hat find their way into a cart that I've acquired. Black and white winter boots, some earmuffs, a headband. A white sweater. Blue and gray long sleeved shirts. Short black and short gray shorts. Two pairs of black sweatpants and a blue sweatshirt. Black and white and gray gloves. Finally, my favorite piece of all: A long-sleeved dress that's green with a sparkly material covering it. It shimmers like a mermaid's tail. I love it.

I walk over to the checkout, pushing my cart. Katniss holds a few bags of her own.

"Holy—are you trying to buy out the whole store? Good god," Katniss chuckles. I laugh too.

"It's all cute. Besides, I want to look nicer nowadays. I've got someone to look nice for."

Katniss smiles.

A boy with an acne-littered face and overgrown blonde hair comes over to us. "Sorry about the wait," he says, his voice cracking. "Ahem. I mean, sorry about the wait." He looks red, and it's not the zits. "Hi. I'm Jimmy. Well, you can probably already tell, since it's on my shirt—oh wait! It's not. I forgot. Well anyway take my word for it. I'm Jimmy. Hi."

I smile—I hope kindly. "Hi. I'm Primrose Everdeen and this is my sister Katniss."

"WHOA!" Jimmy cries, knocking over a vase of flowers. The vase shatters loudly on the floor. "Oh god. Sorry. Sorry about that. Sorry. But you're the Everdeens?"

"Last time I checked," Katniss says, obviously not amused.

"Wow. Hi Primrose. Hi Katniss. Hi P-Primrose," he says breathlessly. "I'll just be a second—I mean, not a literal second, probably more like a few minutes, although I don't know how many, probably four or five but maybe more if I can't find a broom or a dustpan. I have to go clean this vase. Well the vase but I have to clean it off of the floor because obviously you know why. Okay bye. Bye Primrose!"

I can't help it; I crack up as he leaves. "Oh my god, what a train wreck," I whisper through giggles.

Katniss laughs too. "I feel bad for the guy. I mean, look at him." She puts a hand over her mouth.

"_Listen_ to him," I say. "He's so…awkward."

Katniss nods. "I know, oh my god. But he's obviously already in love with you. He's stuttering like nuts."

"Haha. Very funny. I'll bet he likes you."

"No, you."

"Dare you to ask him."

"Dare you to care."

"Seriously? I care way more about Ian than Jimmy McPimpleFace over here."

Mr. McPimpleFace appears from the back door, nearly tripping over the broom he's carrying in the process. "Hi! Hi! Okay so before I clean this up I'll just help you pay. I mean, not help you pay, but check your clothes out. Not check them out like look at them—I will be looking at them, but to scan them. Okay."

A silence as awkward as Jimmy follows as he checks out our items. Katniss breaks it as he swipes my dress.

"So which one of us are you currently in love with?" she asks, dead serious.

Jimmy's entire face and neck go red. Including his pimples. "Wh-what?"

"Which. One. Of. Us. Are. You. Currently. In. Love. With." Katniss takes time to sound out each invididual syllable.

"I'm not in love w-with either one of you."

"Yeah, it's Rosie over here, isn't it?"

Jimmy coughs and glances around nervously, swiping the last item. "Oh look at that done. Cash or credit?"

I hold up my card and he swipes it, pushing the bags into my hands. "Bye!" Jimmy calls after us as the door swings shut. We burst into laughter.

Katniss and I enjoy a lovely morning and afternoon, sipping our drinks, browsing some stores, laughing and talking and walking around the Centre. But when three o'clock arrives, we start the walk back.

As I gulp down the last dregs of my latte we arrive at VV. Katniss ruffles my hair. "I had more fun today than I've had the last seventeen years. Thanks for everything."

"Thank you for bringing up the idea! I had tons of fun too. Have a great night with Peeta! Bye!"

"Bye, Prim." She kisses my cheek and walks toward Peeta's house. After three knocks he opens the door and touches his mouth to hers, then invites her inside. I watch her smile—incredibly brightly—as she enters, her fingers interlaced with his.

Now comes the hard part: getting Elly to leave.

I reach for the doorknob, but pull back, biting my lip. What do I say? _Hey Elly, you know how you walked from Ten to Twelve to see Ian and I? Well now you have to leave so we can be alone. Elly, get out and come back later. Hi Elly! Could you possibly leave the house for tonight so Ian and I can plot Snow's assassination? _Everything either sounds horribly rude or terribly fake. So I decide to just tell her the truth. Still, something inside of me feels really bad about telling Elly to book it.

I twist the brass knob and swing open the door before I can think twice. I expect to see Elly alone, watching TV or reading.

Instead, I see her laughing with Cassia.

Jealousy and rage swirl around inside of me, creating a vortex of terror that will suck in anything. Especially Elly.

Cassia is supposed to be my best friend, my sister figure, my person. She's not Elly's person. She's my person. But I see her wiping away tears of laughter as Elly tells her a joke of some sort. I see her hunch over, giggling out of control.

Tears of sadness and anger prick my eyes. "Hi guys," I say, my voice raspy. "How're you?"

Instantly Elly looks guilty. A feeling of awful victory rises in my throat. "Oh. Hi Primrose." She glances at Cassia, and I feel my heart sink. "We're good."

"I need you to leave," I say roughly. "Ian and I are having a date night. Please go."

Cassia looks hurt. Elly looks terrified.

I must look brokenhearted.

"Sure, Primrose," Elly says kindly but shakily. "We'll just—go to Cassia's house. Okay? Have fun." She touches my shoulder. I jerk backward. Her eyes fall to her shoes. "Bye, Primrose."

Cassia comes over to me and whispers, "I'm sorry, Primrose." I expect to hear "she came up to me" or "I didn't want to" but instead she just squeezes my arm and smiles sadly.

I turn away from both of them, trying not to let my breath hitch. Under control. Under control. God, why am I so jealous? Why am I like this? It's not a big deal! Cassia and I are just really close, so I feel protective. I'm not going to let Elly do to her what she did to Ian. It's fine. It's totally, completely fine.

I hear the door open and close. I wipe my eyes and think of Ian. Ian, Ian, Ian. I feel myself relax; I feel my lips curl into a smile.

"Ian? Are you home?" I call.

"Yeah! I'm coming down!" he responds.

_Yes. I've been waiting all day for this._

"Actually, can I change into my new clothes first?"

"Yeah, go ahead. I'll be waiting downstairs for you."

I grab the bags holding my articles and walk upstairs to my room, passing Ian on the way down.

He lurches forward, grips my shoulders, and kisses me. I feel myself melt. It's like a knot coming undone. The jealousy of Cassia and Elly fades away to nothing, because why am I jealous? I have everything I could ever want kissing me right now.

His fingers dance across my body, from my shoulderblades to my stomach to my hips. Finally they trace their way back up to my face, playing with my hair. I laugh against his lips and he laughs against mine. He ends up with one hand by my neck and one resting on my side against my ribs. Mine are both on his shoulders, practically gluing us together.

I break away, putting a finger to his lips. "No, not yet," I murmur into his ear, kissing it playfully. "Let me get changed first." I peck his cheek and walk into my room. I put on an old, soft gray short-sleeved shirt and some short black shorts. I pull my hair back into a ponytail and wash my face. Then I walk back downstairs, smiling at the sight of Ian already getting pots and pans out.

"Hi again!" he calls, waving. He's so adorable.

"Hello, love. Did Peeta buy ingredients?"

Ian nods and smiles like a four-year-old and my heart literally falls apart. He's too cute.

"What are we cooking?" I ask.

"Uh…you decide."

"Okay. Let's make a spaghetti dish with meatballs, a fruit salad, and a triple-chocolate-cake. If we have the resources."

"Holy crap," Ian says lightly, touching his lips to mine. "I do love when you come up with your plans."

I grin and cross the room to the pantry, eyeing the ingredients. "Oh, we've got more than enough. We can make garlic bread and a risotto too. God this is going to be amazing. You and I, all night, cooking and watching movies and kissing and playing board games…"

"And kissing some more," Ian says, his mouth brushing my nose. "Alright, let's get started! What do I do first?"

"Fill the biggest pan with water and turn the stove up. We need it to boil."

Ian places the dish in the sink and fills it with warm water. Then he heaves it to the stove and turns the dial. "Step one accomplished."

After about twenty minutes the risotto is done, the spaghetti is ninety percent completed, and we're onto the fruit salad.

"What kinds of fruit are we using?" Ian asks, his arms around my shoulders as I rock sideways slightly.

"I'll pick three, you pick three. My three are strawberries, grapes, and pineapple." I smile up at him.

"Mine are blueberries, kiwi, and raspberries." He sticks out his tongue. "Pineapple?"

"Heck yes," I say. "Let's start chopping up the fruit. _Wash it first._"

Ian begins running the strawberries under a stream of water. We rinse all of the fruit and break out the cutting boards.

"So just cut them like this," I explain, chopping a strawberry in half.

Ian sucks at cooking. He sucks at preparation too. I have to keep grabbing his hands and knife and demonstrating. Finally we finish the strawberries and move onto the grapes. I want them cut in half. He says they're fine whole.

"Why? It's so much nicer-looking when they're divided," I argue.

"They're puke green in the middle, Primrose."

I glare at him, trying furiously not to smile. He's obviously amused, because he bursts into laughter. "I love you so much," he says, sweeping me off of my feet and into his arms. He lifts me into the air like it's nothing, cradling me like a baby so I'm horizontal. I swish my feet back and forth. He kisses me sweetly, my hands on his arms.

"Okay, okay, enough, you little kiss-stealer." I drop from his grasp swiftly, smiling and beginning to cut the fruit again. His arms wrap around me from behind and he rests his chin on the top of my head. I finish the grapes and pineapple as we stand like that. As I reach for the blueberries Ian laughs.

"Please don't chop-chop those," he says, and I burst into giggles.

"Chop-chop?"

"I'm trying to be adorable. You're not the only cutesy one here."

"You're absolutely right. Peeta happens to be very cutesy."

"Shut up," he says with a smile, but I notice the slight tightness. He's jealous.  
>"Aww, you're so hot when you're jealous," I say, touching my nose to his. Ian smiles, running his nose against mine.<p>

"That's called a butterfly kiss," he says quietly, softly. I close my eyes.

"You took me out of the cocoon that was innocent, silent, helpless Primrose," I whisper. "You turned me into a butterfly."

"The biggest, most beautiful butterfly of all," Ian murmurs, and I kiss him long and right before going back to the fruit.

"We're never going to finish this," I say with a grin.

"Guess not," he replies with a shrug.

But eventually the spaghetti and the fruit salad are done.

"Garlic bread is easy," I tell him. "Or at least, the way I make it. Spread some butter and garlic salt on the bread and pop it in the oven."

He takes out a sharp knife and starts swishing it in the air, handle out. "Aha! I am Sensei Reseda! You, cricket, must become big butterfly! Go! Now! Make cake!"

"I_ am_ butterfly!" I cry, holding out a wooden spoon. "You no tell me what to do! You go clean bathroom, oh yes!" I touch his chest with the utensil. "Aha! You dead!"

Ian gags and slumps against the counter. "Oh no, some help? My heart is broken!"

I kiss his forehead. "There. You all better."

He jumps up and begins actually spreading butter on the bread. "All better," he says with a sigh. "If only you did that every time I was sad in Ten. You'd be there every day and every night."

I see his smile visibly become sad. "Hey, it's okay. Hey. You realize that you're never going to be in Ten again. You're never going to be under the control of the Capitol again. I'll make sure of that. I will. You're never going back. Ever." I hold his hand. "You hear?"

"I'm listening," he says, his eyes crinkling with a magnificent grin.

Two hours later all of the food is done. I spoon a heaping helping of everything onto one plate and sit down. Ian raises an eyebrow.

"God, how do you _do _that?" I ask.

"What, this?" He moves it up and down.

"Yeah, that. I wish I could do that."

"Here," he says with laughter in his voice. He moves one of my eyebrows up with his hand. "There. Congratulations. Good job. A plus. Amazing."

I laugh. "Nice one."

"That's a lot of food for you, Primrose."

I move one of my eyebrows up with my hand. "Is it?"

It's Ian's turn to burst into laughter. "Okay. Okay. I get it. Pass me a spoon."

I hand him one and try some of the risotto. "Wow. This is really good." I scoop some up and feed it to Ian. He sighs overdramatically and looks upward, his hands folded as in prayer. I laugh and start again on my risotto, taking some bites of spaghetti as well. Ian slurps a single noodle up, spraying sauce everywhere. I fling my arms up to protect my face. "Ian!" I say, laughing. "Maturity, anyone?"

"I dunno what that word means," he says, swirling the sauce around the plate until it forms a smiley face with heart eyes.

I kiss his cheek and he instantly starts using correct utensils. "Wow. If only you kissed me a bit harder, I might actually let you sit on my lap." I flick my eyebrows skyward and tap my chin.

"Hmm…I don't know. You've got sauce and spice all over your sweatpants…"

"Be right back!" he exclaims, running upstairs. I laugh and nibble on a piece of bread. It tastes fantastic with a bit of spaghetti sauce soaking through.

He runs back down in fresh sweats, and as soon as he sits I slink over to him and connect our lips. Ian pulls back for just a second and smiles lazily. "You're so beautiful," he whispers, his hands in my hair. I smile back.

"You're just as handsome. Now kiss me." I pull him by the top of his shirt so he's close, so close that I can feel the heat from his cheeks. His hands dance with my braid until he finds the ponytail and removes it so my hair comes completely undone with one swift motion, falling over my shoulders. Ian pulls back again. "Are we done eating?"

I glance over at the plate, which consists of three noodles and a piece of garlic bread. I grin at him. "I think so."

"Okay." He touches my hand and leads me over to a chair, where I sit on his lap, kissing him softly. I wind my hands in his hair, his hands at my shoulderblades, at my back, at my hips, climbing back to my shoulders.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," I murmur, my lips tickling his ear. "I love you so much."

"You mean the world to me, Primrose. I was lost without you. I need you. I'm drunk with the alcohol I call love. I love you too." His mouth touches to mine and he takes my hand.

I smile. "I love your smile," he says affectionately. I kiss him briefly, my lips working perfectly with his.

"I love yours too," I whisper. "I love the way your hair curls above your collar. I love the way your fingers are always moving. I love the way you make me feel—like electricity and like I'm special. I love you, Ian Reseda." I kiss him again, my fingers intertwining with his.

I pull away and lay back against him, my head on his shoulder, and my legs on top of his. Our fingers remain laced. I stare at our linked hands. He kisses my head. "You're my everything," he says. "I'd choose you over anyone else, ever. You're one out of everyone in this world and I was lucky enough to cross paths with you." I feel my cheeks redden.

"Ian…when you left, it was like a piece of me was missing. That piece was the one part that held everything together. I tried to hold myself, but slowly I was blowing away in the wind. You caught those pieces and fixed me. For that, I am forever grateful." I turn and look at him. I see his emerald green eyes, so beautiful, gazing at me. "Your eyes, I love your eyes too."

"I love everything about you. Even when you're grumpy in the mornings until I make you coffee."

"You make a mean cappuccino," I admit, to his grin.

"Even when you're sad about something like not getting that book you wanted."

"I like to read!"

"Even when you're frustrated and your cheeks go all red and your jaw sets."

"That stupid flight evaluation was hard, okay?"

"Even when we disagree over stupid things like how to chop-chop blueberries."

I smile and run my thumb along his cheekbones, my fingertip catching the tops of his eyelashes. He closes his eyes. "No, don't," I whisper. "I love your eyes."

"I love yours too, Primrose. They're as blue as the sky, and they're intelligent and strong and beautiful. Just like you."

"But I'm not strong," I say, shutting my eyes so he won't see that they're vulnerable. "I fell apart when you left. I sunk. I drowned. You even warned me not to." I feel a single tear roll down my cheek. "I literally drowned, Ian. In the Dapper Cardinal River."

Ian touches my wrist and runs his finger down my arm. "You can't change the past. But you can control the future." He touches my elbow. "Primrose, you're stronger than I've ever seen you." I open my eyes and look right into his, focused on the green. "That suicide attempt wasn't you. That was everything building up inside of you, like when you shake a soda bottle. Eventually it'll explode. That's what happened to you." His eyes search mine avidly. "And we're fine now. Once Snow is gone, everything will be perfect."

He closes his eyes.

"When we were in the arena, I realized that I wasn't in love with Emily. I was in love with the _idea_ of loving someone. All my life all I wanted was a match. Someone to laugh with, someone to kiss, someone to spend a forever with.

"I saw Emily; saw her exterior beauty and her humor, and something clicked. _Hey, maybe she's right! _I remember thinking, and I walked over to her and asked her to be my girlfriend. I know I was only twelve. But in Twelve, your chances of living as a child are slim. So I decided to start now, because why not?

"For awhile, I kept Emily company, sat with her at lunch, helped her with homework, carried her bags, et cetera, et cetera. I thought I loved her. I really did.

"But then, oh then, someone caught my eye. Little blue-eyed, adorable Primrose. Quiet, sweet Primrose who came from a widow and a hunter who illegally shot game. And you always were so innocent. You were the girl who got A's on everything, the girl who teachers fawned over, the girl who made friends with everyone. You were the girl all the boys wanted to play with. I remember seeing your blue eyes and thinking, _Wow._ Then I remember looking over at Emily, bad-tempered Emily, who was gossiping with one of her friends. I felt bad for thinking about you. I tried to remind myself that I already had a girlfriend. But I couldn't shake you from my head. It didn't help that you were friends with nearly all the boys, most of which admired you so strongly. It also didn't help that you were a grade below me. I had classes with you, sure, because you were so intelligent, but I never got to talk to you or partner up with you. We didn't have lunch together. We never seemed to bump into each other in the hallways. I became longing.

"Emily noticed me looking at you one day, watching you talk to Jeremy Stephens. She must've seen the unhappy expression on my face. 'What's wrong, Ian?' she asked me. I remember shaking my head. 'Nothing,' I said. She then followed my gaze to you. And Miss Temper lost it. 'Why are you staring at her?!' she cried. 'She's nothing!' I just stared at Emily. And I shrugged. 'Okay, Em,' I remember saying simply. And I made sure I never watched you when Emily was around. But I still feel guilty for agreeing with her, Primrose. You were everything.

"I knew you were struggling, though. I remember that fateful day. I was eight, you seven. And we were in Math. And you were pulled from class that day from a frantic-looking Katniss, who had tear stains embedded on her cheeks. You just got up and walked out the door, almost mechanically. I remember standing up, trying to follow you. But our teacher held me back. 'No, Ian,' he said, sounding sad. 'It's a family matter. I'm sure your friend will tell you about it later. Just let her go.' I sat down, thinking _We're not friends. I'll never know._ And I wondered about it for a long while afterward. But I caught whispers of an explosion, conversations of victims. I figured out that your dad was dead, and that the Hawthorne's father was dead too. I remember trying to figure out how to say 'I'm sorry' or how to just talk to you in general. But I never could.

"You might think, _You're way too young to be dealing with all this stuff, Ian! You're eight! Go play kickball or read a book about dragons! _In Twelve, you grow up fast or never grow up at all. We were mature children, the Twelve dwellers.

"I didn't see much of you for the next few years. But on that Reaping day, that Reaping, your name was called. Your name! It was like you knew, somehow. There were thousands of slips in there, of the most distant relatives of the victors they could find. There were aunts and uncles and second cousins once removed by marriage. There were enough slips that I felt myself relax. And yet, it was like you _knew. _Of course, I was unaware. I thought that anyone I loved—including you—and I would be safe.

"But you were called. And panic filled my brain. _Not her!_ I remember thinking, or possibly screaming. _No! _Your face was intimidating. Your steps were controlled, firm. I could tell you were no longer the innocent little flower you used to be—you were a branch of poison ivy at that moment. It was like seeing metamorphosis up close. Your hair was pulled into two low ponytails. You stepped up to Effie. She whispered something in your ear—through sobs. I remember you nodding and directing your eyes to the sky, which coincidentally was a shade darker than your irises.

"And Jordan was called. We all know what happened to Jordan while I was gone—brutally murdered by the Capitol. For being the Code Passer's sister. Of course! Why have any imperfections when you can _stamp_ them out like they're weeds?

"I thought, _How will she have any chance? She'll step off of her plate and get blown to bits. _I volunteered, thinking I would save her. Really I only bought her time. But the tiniest of smirks played across your lips. It soothed a bit of the incredulous pressure now crushing me.

"In the arena, you were finally mine. There was no Emily to scream at me or give me the silent treatment. I know I should've been out of my mind worried. Instead I was focused on finding you. But I was sidetracked and ended up alone on a lakeshore, weaponless and foodless. Thankfully, Quinn and Gregg found me. We ate fish and they handed me a knife. Quinn spotted something in a tree. 'Stay here, Ian,' she told me. 'Gregg and I will check it out. If we yell, run.' I nodded obediently. They set off, weapons in hand. I think halfway there she realized it was you, because I heard her tell Gregg to be ready to toss his weapon aside.

"Conversation reached my ears. Then silence. I wondered what was going on. I became anxious. Then, lo and behold, I saw you! I saw you and I saw you laughing. You told Quinn and Gregg about what'd happened, and they inspected what you had. Then, Quinn remembered me. I walked out. Shock crossed your face, and I remember my heart nearly bursting with nervous electricity. But I think I played it pretty cool. You kept poking fun at me and I loved every second of your full, undivided attention.

"Then, Cool Ian got sick. Food poisoning. I thought I had blown my chance and I thought you'd be disgusted with me. But you empathized and pulled my head onto your lap. I felt so alive. You were so beautiful that night. You were going to tell me something. But Quinn got up and spotted us sitting like that, and you went to sleep shortly after.

"Quinn started teasing me about you and I eagerly asked if you liked me. She told me she didn't know, but I figured she did. You two got so close, so quickly. I wondered about it for ages. Ages and ages and ages. When Quinn died, it was like you had been unplugged. Gregg looked terrible. But you _sang._ It was so lovely, so crisp and clear and wonderful. I think everyone felt better after that.

"We cruised for awhile, and the wave threat came. I went crazy because I'm no swimmer. You pointed to a tree and told me to run with you. I did. And we sat on that branch, thinking we were going to die. You whispered three words to me, three words that made my life worth living: _I love you._ I looked straight at you. You were staring at your hands.

"And I kissed you. I kissed you because if we died, I was going to die knowing that you knew I loved you. You kissed me back, and when we went underwater, it took you awhile to let go.

"Eventually we got around to the time where Gregg betrayed us. You were mad with rage. But when we actually found them, you calmed yourself down, but ranted on Gregg. I'd never admired you more. And you killed him. You went hysterical. I don't think you meant to hurt him, but you did. Samantha got you, though. She knocked you out of the tree and knocked you unconscious. I literally went numb all over. Samantha said she'd spare you if I kicked my knife over. I refused. I thought I would fight for you. But she pressed a knife to your neck, nicking the skin. I smacked that thing as hard as I could. She laughed manically. She said she'd kill both of us. She aimed that knife directly for your heart. Lightning fast, I knocked it askew. It pierced your arm but it also pierced her. You were alive, but for how long, I didn't know.

"Haymitch came and rescued us. I finally felt okay. You were going to be fine, they said. We could finally be in peace.

"But then…then they took me away. To Ten. Everything felt black and dull and wrong. Without you, I was lost. I thought I was going to die. I was broken. Elly came along. I fell for the idea of love _again._ I never really loved her. I loved love. I needed love. I was wandering around, trying to latch onto Elly. She pushed me away. One awful day I fell off the cliff. I fell and nearly snapped my neck in half.

"But you know what kept me alive in that hospital? It wasn't Elly calling Haymitch for help. It was the thought of you. I was unconscious, but my brain was plenty alive. I had flashbacks of you and me, in the arena, saying goodbye. I remembered you. And I clung to life."

"After a long while you came to save me. You saved me. I love you, Prim."

It's the first time he's ever called me Prim.

I wipe my eyes and smile, my breath catching as I laugh. "Ian," I begin.

"That's the story of us," he says.

We kiss, and I feel like a million stars.


	22. Chapter 22

_Don't Look Back—Chapter 22_

**A/N: Hello everyone! That was a really long last chapter, at about 6,750 words. But it was fun to write. I needed a little break from the action. But here it is! Enjoy Ch. 22!**

Chapter 22—Blossom

Cassia's POV

I checked myself into the hospital last night, but only for a short while. I'm going in for the actual treatment today—not the _mange lentement corps_ treatment but a bunch combined because there is not a treatment for _MLC._

But last night I met Elly Opal, and she's one of the brightest people I've ever met. She made me laugh, she made me cry from laughing, and I had fun with her.

Then Primrose walked in.

The look on her face made my heart break into a million pieces. I know she's jealous of us. I would be too. I am. I am jealous of her. But I still feel terrible. She's been trying so hard to spend time with me. I told her I'd be in the hospital all night.

And she walked in on me enjoying time with her best friend.

Yes, she was furious and rough and rude. But she had every reason to be. I betrayed her. I didn't even say "I'm sorry." I'm an awful friend.

I sigh and hitch my handbag up farther on my elbow, squinting in the mirror. I brush my hair back a bit, fussing over a few frizzes. My white, short-sleeved shirt and light khakis that hardly reach a quarter of the way down my thighs with long, knee-length black boots look awesome. I tie my hair back in a braid with my bangs swept to the side. Smiling, I turn on my heel and leave my bedroom. I want to look happy today, before I go to the hospital.

On the inside, I'm crap.

My hands and feet constantly feel like they've been held over a stove, while my skin is ice cold. My hair has become thinner and lankier. I've lost a lot of weight and I seem to sweat a lot more. My breath becomes shorter. Sometimes I wake up coughing and have to go puke in the bathroom. Sometimes blood comes up with the remains of the little food I eat. I can hardly walk without feeling like knifes are being pushed into my rib cage.

Gone is the curvy, confident Cassia James. Gone is the funny, sarcastic Cass who laughed along with Primrose and teased her brother and Ian. Gone is the shining-eyed, bubbly teenage girl who painted her nails and flew airships like she was getting coffee.

Here is the ugly, shy Cassia James. Here is the lame, quiet Cass who is over Primrose and never talks to her brother or Ian. Here is the dull-faced, sad sick girl who bites her nails and panics on hovercrafts like she's got a knife held to her neck.

I walk out of my house and walk over to Primrose's house in VV. I see her through the window, busily cooking breakfast. I breathe once, and knock three times on the door before I can change my mind.

The door swings open. Katniss stands in a gray cover-up, a purple shirt, and long pants. "Hi, Cassia!" she says with a smile. I give her a hug. She smells like paprika. "C'mon in! Do you want some breakfast?"

"Sure, thank you," I answer.

"Katniss, who's there?" Primrose calls from the kitchen. I hear something sizzling.

"Cassia!"

I hear the pan being set down. Primrose walks out, smiling at me. Relief floods my system. "Hi, Primrose!"

"Oh Cass, I've missed you!" She gives me a bear hug and kisses my cheek. I close my eyes and breathe in her smell: bread and sugar, today.

I do believe that I've moved past Primrose. I know I have a negative twenty-two percent chance with her because of Ian. I know she loves me, but not romantically. And I think I'm okay with it. You can't steer the love you feel, but you can swerve to another person if all fails. Kind of like wiping away the love with a windshield wiper. It takes awhile to dry, but it does.

I kinda like this Elly Opal character.

She's beautiful, she's funny, she's kind, and she's sarcastic. She's kinda like me. I love that about her. I know she's Primrose's best friend, aside from Ian and Katniss and me. But I don't know if Primrose will be mad. She doesn't even know I'm lesbian.

"How are you?" Her eyes still seem a bit hurt.

"I'm going into the hospital at six," I admit, shrugging like it's nothing. Primrose's lips part and her eyes switch from damaged to sad. "It's okay. They'll…treat me, won't they?" She nods, her lip between her teeth. "Hey. I'm going to be fine." I put a hand on her shoulder, looking her right in the eye. Her eyes are blue, but troubled. I can only imagine that mine must look terrified.

"I know you are, okay? It's not that. It's that you've changed." Primrose's teeth snag on her bottom lip again. "You're different."

"How so?" I ask, taken slightly aback.

"You know you are," she says softly.

I nod once, my eyes anywhere but on her face. Focusing on her is like staring at the sun.

"Here you go, Cassia," Katniss says, a tray balanced on her hand, beaming. "Primrose made it."

"I know," I answer, smiling. "She's an awesome cook."

Primrose opens her mouth and closes it, eyebrows knit. "Thanks," she says sharply.

I blink hard three times and take a piece of bacon. Katniss slides into the chair next to me, a plate full of food in front of her. She nudges me with her shoulder. "What's wrong with you and Primrose?" she whispers. I shake my head. _Not here, not now,_ I mouth. Katniss nods. "Really?" she says loudly, laughing. "God, Cassia." I give a high-pitched, girly giggle. It sounds nothing like me.

"Ian!" Primrose exclaims. Ian comes down the stairs in a gray shirt with a rose on it. I feel my cheeks flush. It's for _her._

"Good morning, beautiful," he says quietly, his eyes so happy. He kisses her lightly, her hand on his cheek.

"Sweet dreams?" she asks.

"They were about you," he says, smiling, his eyes losing their light. He kisses her ear, his mouth moving. Her eyes become sad too. She nods at him once, then the dazzling smile returns. My mouth tastes metallic. I hurriedly spoon some eggs into my mouth before I can cry out. The shadow of her in my heart is constricting my chest.

I want her so badly. I want her and her smile and her star-filled eyes and her lips. I just want her. I need her. But I'm fighting it so hard. Why? Why not just love her from afar for the rest of my life? I think it's because I know I'm going to die. I'm going to die eventually, be it tomorrow or next week or next year or next decade. It could even be in three seconds. (I take a small break from my thoughts to count to three.) I want to impact someone or something. I want to be a positive impact. I was, at first. And now…

Primrose takes Ian's hand and they sit at the table. Ian smiles at me. His smile is so boyish that it makes him look like he's still in elementary school. I grin back, a genuine one. I like Ian a lot. Except for the fact that he's with Primrose. That's a major red flag.

But how can I compete? He shares a home with her, for god's sake. He gets to wake up with her every morning. He was rescued by her. He knows she cares so much. Ian loves Primrose with every fiber of his body, and she the same.

I finish off my plate and drop it in the sink. Primrose's eyes flicker to me. She smiles sadly. I mirror her. Ian cups her chin in his hand and kisses her, her eyes sliding back to him, wide in surprise. They melt into love. I want to scream.

"Thanks for the breakfast, Katniss," I say, giving her a hug. Katniss smiles into my shoulder.

"Take care, okay? Go to the hospital, and don't mess around. I know you," she says with a wink. I begin to wonder if Katniss looks past all the misery and pain and sees the beauty from within anything. I love that about her. "I'll visit you later. Prim and Ian will come with me. See you!" I smile over my shoulder as I wave, leaving the house.

Elly's POV

"Hey!" I call, getting up from my spot on a bench. "Finally. I was beginning to wonder if you'd show up."

Cassia James smiles at me. Her smile is beautiful.

"I stopped for a bite to eat." She flicks her hair out of her eyes. "How're you?"

"I've been bored. This district is even more boring than Ten." I roll my eyes. Cassia laughs, a strange light in her eyes.

I study Cassia's face. She's so beautiful. Her eyes are always shining and bright and ablaze. Her hair is tied back today, and it looks soft and silky. Her figure is amazing, with hips flaring out from a narrow waist. And her smile is always radiant.

I suddenly feel self-conscious and sort of wring my hands.

Cassia slings an arm around me, another arm swinging through the sky. "See that?" she asks, her smile huge and her view skyward. I gaze at her, watching her watch the sky. "That's where I'm going. I'm going to fly up to the sky and walk on the clouds and look down on everyone else, on you and Primrose and Ian and Katniss and Peeta and Haymitch and Effie and Diana."

"That's impossible," I state.

"The only thing that's impossible is impossibility," Cassia says softly. I meet her eyes. "When I die. That's what I meant."

I push her away. "Don't ever say that."

"Why not? It's going to happen."

I feel a shiver trace down my back. "The way you say it you act like you're going to die tomorrow."

She shrugs. "Who knows? I might."

"Shut _up!_" A scream tears from my lips. "That's not something you're supposed to say!"

Cassia's eyes are sharp. "Elly. Listen, okay? If I die young, then I don't have much of a chance to impact someone. I want to impact someone. I want to leave a legacy. 'The CJ Way', I'd call it. It rhymes. So it's cool. But it's also something I want to accomplish."

"That sounds awesome. But you still shouldn't say stuff like that. It kind of puts a downing on the whole 'friends' thing."

"We're friends?" Cassia asks, smiling.

I look up at her. "Yeah."

"Awesome." Cassia's cheeks are red. I bet mine are too.

Is it because I love her?

I might love her.

I guess after I saw how I don't really fit in with guys, how I'm so ditzy around them, I became more attracted to girls. I'd see some in the streets as we traveled, and I'd feel my face become hot. I noticed how beautiful Cassia was right away. She makes me feel buzzed. I love how she does it.

"Cassia," I say.

"Elly," she replies, her eyes smiling.

Her lips taste like strawberries.

Ian's POV

"We need to have a meeting sometime soon," Haymitch says lazily, his bottle in his hands.

Katniss rolls her eyes. "This_ is_ the meeting."

Primrose sits next to me, her fingers laced with mine. She focuses mainly on the Katniss, the General. Since this is the planning period for the assassination, it's primarily Katniss who will be leading us.

I smile as her grip tightens. She's curious about something.

Primrose raises her hand. Effie's green-tinted lips curl into a smile. "Yes, dear?"

"Are Ian, Elly and I going to fight?"

My heart tumbles into my stomach. _No._

Katniss looks troubled as well, but there's pride in her expression. "D'you really want to?"

Primrose turns to look at me. Her eyes are like chips of ice. "I want to tear apart the person who kept me from _you,_" she says to me. I squeeze her hand.

"Okay, you can fight. Ian, you want to?"

"If she goes, I go." Primrose's smile is reassuring, not to mention amazing.

"Elly?"

"I'll fight." She grins at Primrose, who grins back. Apparently they've made up. Primrose told me about what happened. After that she read her favorite book to me until I fell asleep with my head on her lap. "We've got this, Primrose." Elly high-fives Primrose.

"We need a pilot," Katniss says. "Unfortunately—obviously—Cassia's fallen sick. I could contact T. Or Haymitch could fly."

Everyone shoots a sideways look at a drunken Haymitch. Primrose feigns cutting her throat. Katniss nods in agreement, and they both smile. They've never looked more like sisters.

"I guess T will have to cooperate, unless Cassia can be cured in three weeks or less."

"I wouldn't doubt these doctors," Cassia says, bringing up her wrist. A hospital bracelet hangs clipped to it. "They're imported from the Capitol. Secret Twelve spies who disagreed with the Capitol's decision to send Ian to Ten. Haymitch contacted them and they're here for 'brain surgery'." Cassia makes air quotes with her fingers. "I could be on my feet in two weeks."

"With full memory and knowledge of how to fly, the controls, and no panic attacks or nightmares?" Katniss inquires. Cassia's lips part slightly.

"That I don't know."

Peeta speaks up. "I think we just need to give it some time. You never know. It'll all depend on the medicine. What're you on now?"

"Morphling drizzle for the pain," Cassia says, pointing to a container of clear liquid, "and three other medicines combined that they're trying: ikkura, medella, and lecui." She winces, her teeth snagging on her lip. She gives a whimper of pain, her head hitting her pillow. Her breathing is heavy. "That happens sometimes," she explains weakly, through gritted teeth. "Pain bursts. I call them 'bodily earthquake volcanoes'—ahh…" Primrose crosses the room and sits on the edge of Cassia's bed, taking her hand and squeezing it. Cassia smiles feebly at Primrose, her breathing slowly leveling. Elly's face looks as though she's being physically restrained by someone.

Primrose whispers words into Cassia's ear, words that make Cassia close her eyes and nod, a tiny flicker of a smile toying across her face. When Primrose steps away, back over to me, Cassia opens her eyes again. Elly's face is normal again.

"So," Katniss begins, her voice even as though nothing had happened, "we need a plan of attack."

"I say we enter by the old bridge in the Capitol. You know, where it's almost collapsed? They hardly have any patrols there and we can access major points of the city from there. Plus we're hidden well by the vegetation." Primrose knits her eyebrows. "I remember from a book I read sometime. It's hopefully still there. I can go check…"

"No, no, we need you here," I say, and Katniss smirks at me. Primrose faces me, her features serious.

"I'm flattered, but really, we're talking about our mission here." I nod, my smile fading rapidly. "I mean, thank you. Really. But I just think—"

"I know what you think," I say, my voice low. "It's fine. Keep talking."

"Oh-kay." She clears her throat. "So I'd say that we need an army."

Everyone falls silent.

Katniss shatters it, biting her cheek. "An army?"

"Yeah," Primrose explains calmly. "We've got eight people here right now. D'you really think we even have a remote chance of getting to the Capitol in the first place? I know you've got some other warriors—T, for example—but really?"

Peeta nods. "She's got a point," he says thoughtfully. "But where are we going to find volunteers?"

"Go to Four and find Quinn Mallory's family," she says, and her grip on my hand is so tight that I feel pins and needles spread through my fingers. "You'll have an army after about three days."

Peeta nods. "She was your ally, right?"

Primrose releases her grip on my hand. "She was more than my ally. She was my best friend and my sister figure and my…my idol, really. I knew her for about three days, and she was all of the above and more. I loved her." Her voice becomes choked and thick with tears. "And she s-sacrificed her l-life for m-me, so that I-I c-could live. I-I h-have to avenger h-her. She c-can't die like she d-did."

I kiss Primrose as she sits down, just a light peck on her lips. She smiles gratefully at me. I smile back. She relaxes, her head on my shoulder, hand on my leg, just like that, for the rest of the meeting.

_Later_

The sunset looks brilliant from the windows in Primrose's room. She sits on her bed, legs out straight, in black pajama pants and a blue tank top that dips just below her collarbone. I sit on a swivel chair by her desk, watching her lips move soundlessly as she reads. I quietly, slowly get up, and then quickly touch my lips to hers. She smiles against the kiss, and her hands creep up my back and one stops at my shoulders, the other cupping my cheek. My hands dance down her back, resting at her hips. I move them up and down her sides. She pins me up against the wall as I admire her bravery. Her mouth works furiously with mine, and her hair is tickling my neck.

Until I brush her bare skin, just underneath her shirt.

She steps back.

"Sorry," I mumble, and she blushes profusely.

"It's not you." Her voice is breathy. "I'm just—I'm not—god." Her eyes avert to the ground. "I'm not…ready for that kind of commitment."

I nod. She keeps staring at her shoes. "Hey. It's okay. You just tell me whenever, okay?" I cup her chin in my hand and kiss her again, this time as gentle as a butterfly's wing. She surprises me by becoming rough and sharp and real in her kiss. This kiss transforms into a storm, a hurricane. Her mouth becomes lightning to my metal, rain to my umbrella.

"Whoa," I whisper against her lips, and she grins and kisses me even harder.

"Okay, I'm good," she says, breaking apart but still so close that I want to grab her and run my hand along her face and tell her everything I love about her.

But we'd be here for an eternity.

"I'm never good," I say, and I kiss her neck, her laughter ringing in my ears. I plant three kisses on her collarbone, and finally kiss her hand once. "Three year's worth of lost kisses made up yet?"

"Never," she whispers fiercely, touching her lips to mine as the exact spot we are standing in is illuminated with orange light.

"So what now?" I ask.

"We could…god. I'm running out of things to do. If we could only go outside…" She sighs. "Soon we'll be able to. Soon."

I nod and glance around the room. "I don't know what to do."

"Let's train, then." She slips on her shoes. "I need to work on archery. We can set up targets in the attic."

"Sounds good to me."

Twenty minutes later we have two targets, two bows, twelve arrows (six for each of us), and two water bottles set up in Primrose's attic. She knocks an arrow with lightning speed, pulls back her bowstring, and releases. It hits the yellow ring around the bullseye. She frowns. "You go," she says to me.

I position an arrow of my own, pull back, and release. Mine is so off target that it bounces off of Primrose's setup, albeit off her bullseye. She tips her head back and laughs. I love her laugh so much that I kiss her right then and there.

"I've been struck with Cupid's arrow," I say, making her blush and laugh.

"I've never loved anyone as much as you," she tells me, pulling her face to mine. "You are my one and only."

"I love you, Primrose."

"I love you, Ian."

For the next thirty minutes we fire at our targets until my fingers feel like falling off and Primrose's water is gone. "That's it for today," she says. "Please."

"Yeah, I know." I grin and try to hug Primrose. She shrieks and backs away.

"Gross. I'm going to go shower, and then you better do the same." She prods me in the chest. "Bye."

"Bye." I pluck her bow from the ground and sling it over my shoulder.

After about ten minutes Primrose is done. On my way to the bathroom I sneak a hug, coming up from behind. "Ian!" Primrose groans. "I—just—showered!"

"Ahaha!" I run to the bathroom and turn on the water before she can do something worse.

A long hot shower was exactly what the doctor ordered. I find Primrose channel surfing when I emerge, hair glistening with water. She turns around and smiles. "You're so handsome, oh my god," she says, and it's stuff like this that she says that makes me feel like a million dollars. "I mean, god. Like, right now, you're shirtless. Stay that way." I grin.

"Okay."

"Yes." Primrose pats the spot next to her. "Wanna watch something?"

"Yeah sure."

We watch a few episodes of this one comedy show, then Primrose yawns and flicks off the television. "Bedtime."

I agree wholeheartedly. "Yes, please."

"Hey, you know…If you wanna sleep in my room, you can."

"Oh sure, I'll sleep on the floor. Where would I sleep?"

"It's a king-sized bed." The look on her face is completely innocent.

"I thought you said—"

"Not like that, idiot," she says with a laugh. "It just gets lonely."

I smile and nod. "Of course I'll sleep in your room."

She takes my hand and leads me up the stairs. We reenter her room. I kick off my shoes and crawl into her bed. She snuggles up under the blankets, laying her head on my chest.

"I love you," she whispers. "I _love_ you."

"I love you too." She props herself up on her elbows so she's on top of me. Primrose smiles down at me, her eyelashes fluttering.

"That's lovely."

"Was that a pun?"

"Maybe, love."

"Dude."

"I love that title."

"Dude!"

"Okay." She's laughing. Her hand traces my jawline, her eyes huge. "I'm going to say something serious, so stop smiling." I rearrange my features. "Ian…do you realize that we might die on this mission?"

"Yeah." I sigh. "That's why I don't like you going to fight."

"I have to, though. For Quinn. For everyone who died in that arena. I have to fight." She looks at me. "But if I die…" She takes a deep breath. "If I die, you can't go crazy. I went crazy when you left. I can't—I can't let you do that. Don't." She kisses my chest, right where my heart is. "Please."

"I won't," I whisper, kissing her bare shoulder.

"If you die," she murmurs, "then I go too."

"No." I state, my voice loud in the silence. "No, Primrose."

"I can't live without you. You saw that earlier. But to know that you'd really be gone, that there would be no rescue mission, no phone calls…" There are tears physically streaming down her face. "Just the thought of it is killing me, Ian."

"But what about your mother? Katniss?" I breathe in her smell, today lilac and wind. "What about them? Cassia? Elly?"

"They've got each other. Katniss and Cassia, Elly and Cassia, my mom and Effie. They've all got someone who fits them like a glove. You and I…that's us. We're together. We're a match." Her hands are at my sides, her elbows still propping her up. "I can't live with you gone."

"Nor can I," I whisper to her, the darkness wrapping its tendrils around both of us. She smiles, closing her eyes and laying her head on top of my chest, sleep overcoming her gently. I wrap my arms around her tightly, feeling her chest rise on top of mine, feeling her heart beat in unison with mine.

I try not to think of her gone, her dead, because I know that my life would not be worth living without the sixteen-year-old wonder of a girl that I know as Primrose Everdeen.

I fall asleep to the sound of her breathing.

Katniss's POV

"Hmm." I frown at the plans in front of me. "This'll never work."

"Why not?" Peeta asks.

"The map that I have tells me that the bridge Prim talked about is gone. It's been reduced to condos. So I guess we can't enter that way."

"Could we…enter through air travel?"

"Not a chance," I say blearily, glancing at the clock. Three forty-five in the morning. God. "They'll pick us off without a second thought. We really have to get to Four and talk to the Mallorys. An army…I don't know what Primrose is _thinking! _How are two people going to get us an army?" I cover my face with my hands. Peeta wraps his arms around me.

"We're going to work things out, okay?" he says reassuringly. "Don't worry. Everything will be okay in the end."

"But how do you know that?" I ask weakly, sounding like a five-year-old. "How do you know that Prim won't die, that Ian won't die, that I won't die…that _you_ won't die?"

Peeta is silent for a few seconds. "I don't, but that's war, isn't it?"

"War? War?! This is an assassination, not a battlefield!"

"It very well could turn into a war, Katniss. Luckily we have some Three-dwellers on our side. Beetee and Wiress, I don't know if you've heard of them? And in Four, Finnick Odair is trying to persuade some of 'his people', I guess, into joining us. You know Odair."

"Yeah, he won his games at fourteen, I know the story. But that's only three people so far."

"Including quite a few of us."

"So we have twenty people on our side. Lovely. _That's not enough, Peeta! _The Capitol has the best military structure, the best weapons, the best defense, the best _everything!_ How can we compete? Why are we even assassinating him?"

"You're tired," Peeta tells me.

"I KNOW I AM! That doesn't matter right now."

"We're assassinating him because the Hunger Games need to end, Ian needs to come out of hiding, and we can't be run by a dictatorship any longer. You know that. How could you even ask a question like that, Katniss?"

"I don't know, Peeta. Everything is just so _hard._"

"You're telling me."

He kisses me gently, the pressure of his lips opening mine. I revel in him, my hands winding up to his hair, knotting in it, bringing him closer to me. His hands are everywhere, making me feel magical. Peeta lifts me off my feet, and I glue myself to him, kissing him, loving him so much. His mouth still harmonizes with mine, and when we gently break away, I smile.

"That wasn't as hard as I thought."


	23. Chapter 23

_Don't Look Back—Chapter 23_

**A/N: Hey everyone! Have an awesome day and enjoy Ch. 23! **

Chapter 23—Rifling through a Room

Primrose's POV

I wake up to an empty bed, but lingering warmth. My hair, mussed from sleep, has obviously been toyed with. I smile.

I hear the water running in my bathroom. _He's in the shower. _He didn't leave me for anything else. My grin widens.

I get up and stretch, grabbing some clothes. I glance at the door. If he comes out while I'm changing…no, no. I change quickly, yanking a shirt on over my head. I then sit and flip through the photo book Cassia gave me. I see Ian and I, laughing and kissing. I feel my heart flutter.

Ian walks out of my bathroom, his hair wet, a towel wrapped around his waist. My heart no longer flutters, it jolts violently and I nearly fall off my desk chair.

"Hey," he says, smiling, and kisses me gently. I smile back at him, still panicking slightly.

"Hi." I hold up the photo book. "Cassia gave this to me awhile ago. I forgot to show you." He sits down next to me; my heart crawls into my throat.

_Why are you nervous? Don't be nervous. It's not like anything is going to happen. You told him, he agreed. You're fine._

And yet, I can't stop the stream of angst that's flowing through me.

"Oh, wow, we were little," Ian says with a laugh, pointing at one of us two weeks before he left for Ten. "You were adorable."

"Were?" I say, glaring at him, biting back a smile.

"You're adorable still," he admits, "but it's more of a 'beautiful' than 'cute'."

I grab his hand and kiss his fingers. "Thanks."

We turn the pages in the book for awhile. My eyes catch a certain picture. It's him, hugging me before he jumps on the train, the train that will take him away. A hard lump rises right where my heart was earlier, in my throat. I turn the page with much force, nearly ripping it in half. "Primrose, are you okay?"

I nod rapidly, shutting the book. "Go get dressed," I say harshly, standing. "I'll be downstairs.

"Primrose, was it something I—"

"No," I respond, slinking to the doorway. "It wasn't you."

_But it was._

I walk down the stairs, thinking hard. Why did I let myself get wrecked over a picture? That happened in the past. Everything's fine now. I love him. He loves me. He's here. I shouldn't be so worked up.

I also shouldn't still be freaking out over the whole Ian-towel thing. That was stupid. Utterly stupid. I already cleared the water, but I'm mucking it again. Why am I doing these stupid, stupid things?

"Hey, Primrose." Ian's eyes are full of concern, hurt. "Are you sure that you're…fine?"

I smile weakly. "Yes. I like your shirt."

It's got a rose on it. He smiles and brings me closer to him. "It reminds me of you." He kisses me, his hands on my back, gluing me to him. I run a hand down his chest, while the other knots in his hair. He copies me, moving both hands to my hair, playing with it just like he did while I was asleep.

"Yeesh," a voice full of amusement says, and we break away quickly. Katniss stands, arms crossed, at the base of the stairs. I smile.

"How's Cassia?" Ian's cheeks are bright red.

"I was just about to go see her. Wanna come?" she asks me. I nod. Ian sighs. I feel terrible that he can't come along anymore, that he can't step outside even for a moment. He sees my expression and smiles.

"It's okay," he explains quietly. "Once Snow is gone…"

"He will be soon!" Katniss calls, rummaging through a desk drawer.

"I'll see you soon, okay?" I say, squeezing his hand. I smile, walk over to the door, and pull on my boots and coat. I pull my hair back into a fresh braid, slipping a headband over my bangs. "Bye!"

"Bye." He lifts a hand. I twist the knob and step onto the porch.

Icy air surrounds me, engulfing me, filling my lungs and head with sharp coldness. Snow litters our well-kept lawn, bright white against the dull, gray sky. Haymitch's house is straightened up, thanks to Hazelle. Although Katniss and Gale probably will never make up, she still enjoys Hazelle's company. A gust of wind blows loose strands of my hair every which way, my feet slipping on a frozen puddle. I catch myself on the railing, heart pumping.

The door swings open, nearly catching me in the back. "Whoa there," Katniss says with a grin, grabbing my arm. "Slippery."

"Yeah," I say, wincing.

"Let's go," she says quickly, slipping a pistol behind her belt. My eyebrows skyrocket, panic washing over me like the air. "I'll explain to you tonight, when Ian is with us."

"Oh-kay," I say shakily, hands just like my voice. "Let's just go visit her."

We walk in silence: me, in shock and fright; Katniss, in calmness and attention. Peacekeepers line the streets, guns strapped to their backs. I try to keep from shaking too hard. If Ian were here, he'd take my hand and wrap his arms around me, keeping me safe and blocking everything else out. I could finally be calm.

But he's not. So I can't.

The hospital looms in the distance, a concrete structure with a blue cross painted on it. It's mostly for the richer in Twelve, the ones who aren't miners, and Capitolite imports and things like that. The lower class, the miners, and the starving, the poor, those types of people, they come to people like my mother and I.

"Katniss, d'you really think Cass will get better?" I ask quietly.

"I do," she says. "I think she'll make a full recovery." Her eyebrows knit. "Have you seen Elly lately?"

"Yeah, at the—" I frown.

Katniss just bites her lip.

The doors in front of us slide open with a rusty creak, and we step inside. A nurse with grime streaking her face nods as we come in. "You here to see someone?" she says coolly.

"Cassia James," Katniss replies, just as stone-cold.

"Room 10A. To your left. Have a nice day."

We set off to the left, white doors winking at me. _7A, 8A, 9A…_I stop at door 10A, the brass knob gleaming almost menacingly. Katniss squeezes my shoulders and we step inside.

Cassia's head is down, her hands rifling through a book. She looks up, smiling feebly. "Hello."

"Oh, _Cass!_" I yell, running over to her and hugging her so tightly I'm afraid I've killed her for a moment. "Cassia…"

"Hey, missy." She's bringing back the old nickname. I grin, tears streaming down my face. I can't bear seeing her like this. Her light is flaring out.

"Are you feeling okay?"

"No," she says, but shrugs, wincing. "I will, though. They say…that brief pain before…ahh…you know…"

"Cassia, Cassia, Cassia," I whisper, stroking her hair and laying down next to her. "Please get better. Please get better."

"I will," she says so softly that I can hardly hear her over the sound of her breathing. "I will."

I lay with her for awhile, feeling her chest rise and fall rather fiercely, and I realize how hard she's actually fighting it. The _mange lentement corps. _

Katniss is crying too, sitting in a chair next to Cassia, gripping her cold hand. Her skin is so white it's almost transparent, her face sunken, her bones standing out rather freakishly. Her hair is limp. Her figure is thinning. Her personality is desperate. She's ailing so quickly, it's like watching a time lapse.

The heart monitor by her bed slows, and she's asleep. I kiss her forehead and get off the bed, sniffing. Katniss stands, wrapping her arms around me and hugging me, and we suffer in silence.

The door bangs open, Elly Opal standing in a dress with flowers and chocolates.

"Oh—oh my god. Hi! Hi!" She runs up to me and I throw myself at her, squeezing her tightly.

"Where the hell," I begin, releasing her, "have you been?"

"Well…I've been with the doctors a lot, monitoring Cassia's progress. She's—not doing so hot, you know that, right?"

I nod, feeling hot tears rain down my cheeks. Elly bites her lip. "Did she tell you about her and me?"

I frown and shake my head. "N-no, why?"

Elly's eyes flash. "Well, before she went into the hospital, we were planning a surprise party for you. Just because we were going to celebrate getting Ian, Diana, Donald and I here. But now…"

"That's fine, you don't have to. But thank you, I'm flattered."

Elly smiles. "Good." Her smile disappears as she gazes over at Cassia. "I can't stand seeing her like this." She sets the flowers and chocolate on the bedside stand, straightening her dress.

"Why are you in a dress?"

Her cheeks redden. "There's a cute doctor that does observations."

I snort and laugh, as does Elly, albeit nervously.

Cassia stirs. She mutters in her sleep, her heartbeat racing.

"Oh, my god, she's having a nightmare," Katniss says, dashing over to her. "Her heart is weak, it can't take…_well come on, you idiots, help me wake her up!_" We run over as well, shaking her. I kiss her forehead over and over, praying that she wakes up. "Nurse! Nurse!" Katniss calls, still frantically trying to get Cassia up.

Her eyes fly open and she doubles over, retching. "Prim—rose," she whispers, wild-eyed, grabbling at the front of my coat. "Are you—oh-kay?"

"I'm fine," I say softly, tears pricking my eyes.

"I thought—you were gone," she breathes, bile dribbling down her chin. I sob dryly and climb into the bed, taking her hand. "I'm—sorry for—scaring you."

"It's okay, Cassia," Katniss says as the nurse walks in.

"You called?"

"It's fine now, she…" Katniss explains in hushed tones what happened. The nurse nods.

"We'll have to give her sleeping drugs, that don't allow dreams." She puts her pen between her teeth, chewing thoughtfully. "I'm completely baffled. None of the treatments _do _anything…you might have to say goodbye soon, I'm sorry. I'm Yucca, by the way, Yucca West; call me Y…just holler if anything else goes wrong. I'm gonna go get her pills. See you later."

"We better go," I whisper to Cassia, her freezing skin burning mine.

"Bye, Primrose…could you come back tomorrow?"

"Anytime you want." Tears dampen my cheeks as I kiss her cheek and get off the bed. Elly seems to be oddly constricted.

"Bye, Primrose." She hugs me nonetheless. "I'm so sorry." Her words are soft, gentle. But this is not a time to be soft and gentle. This is a time to be rough and iron-hard, stone-cold, numb. This is a time to fight, to raise our swords and bows and fight like we've never fought before. This is a time to risk our necks, our lives, to get what's right. This is a time to wipe away our tears and become furious. This is a time to stand firm, stand tall, and stand with one another.

We need to kill Snow.

Ian's POV

Being in Primrose's house, alone, is kind of unnerving. There are things I know she doesn't want me to see, things I know she doesn't want me to hear, things I know she doesn't want me to know about.

And yet, I'm rifling through her room anyway.

Her room is testing the borders of organization. It's messy, but she tells me it's "on display, like a museum". But of course there are still things she keeps away.

I slide open her closet doors. There are dresses, coats, leggings, underwear…I feel heat radiate from my cheeks as I see those, and avert my vision, little laughs tearing from my lips.

I see boxes at the back, labeled. "Kindergarten", "Hunger Games", "Dad"…my eyes catch a box with my name on it. "Ian Reseda".

The box is blue, with designs all over it, presumably hand-drawn. All the others are different colors as well.

My fingers catch the latch and the cover swings open. It's sizeable. I see the sign above the boxes. "Memories", it says. I smile. She went through all this trouble to remember things. That's my Primrose.

A drawing, a picture or two, a love letter, a poem. All these things and more are nestled carefully in the box. I see a teddy bear that I gave her, one of many. I see the gifts I gave her on Valentine's Day—

I hear footsteps, dry sniffs.

I tear out of her room just as she walks in. We collide, and she falls into my arms.

"Ian!" she says, tear streaks on her cheeks.

"Primrose!" I frown at her. "Were you crying?'

"Why were you in my room?"

I feel panic. "I…uh…"

"It's okay, it's fine. I was crying because…Cassia, she's not doing well, Ian. She's dying. I can t-tell."

I kiss her tears, tasting salt. "Hey. It's going to be okay."

"No, it's n-not. I can't let her g-go."

I sit her down on the bed. She climbs into my lap like a little child, resting her head on my leg. "I can't lose her anymore than I can lose you." Her eyes are luminous. "Please don't leave me."

"Primrose…" I kiss her forehead and stroke her hair. "I'll never leave you." I hold her tightly. "I promise."

Her face shifts, and she's staring full-force into me. I can hardly bear how vulnerable she is. I'm so used to the strong Primrose who keeps herself afloat. She goes into battle with her sword swinging. Is this what she was like when I was relocated? My heart cracks in two. Her eyes are full of tears.

"But what…if…" She starts sobbing.

I feel tears of my own slip down my cheeks.

"Primrose, I won't, I swear. I won't. If I do, I'll come back. I will."

"What if I die?" Her eyes are like little stars.

"Then I'll go too."

"Okay," she says softly. "That's what I needed to hear."

She leans up and kisses me.


	24. Chapter 24

_Don't Look Back—Chapter 24_

**A/N: Hello all! This chapter is going to be short, but I'm *hoping* to upload another long one either tomorrow or sometime in the next few days. Anyway. Enjoy Ch. 24!**

Chapter 24—Reluctantly Reunited

Prim's POV

I must've fallen asleep on Ian's lap, my body curled into a tiny ball. I felt so terrible, so broken after seeing Cassia like that. Ian kissed me and held me and made me feel safe again.

But now it's early evening and Ian's not talking to me.

"Ian?" I say softly, wrapping my arms around him. "Are you okay?"

He turns so quickly I hardly see him move. I only feel the rough pressure of his lips parting mine. I melt into his arms, clutching at his shirt. He removes it instantly, and I feel the bare, tight skin. Scarred and marked, it's like a story unfolding on his body. I run my fingers up and down his back, feeling bumps and scratches. It feels so natural. His hands are where my stomach and hips join. Mine are around his neck, pulling him down to me. I run my hands along his cheekbones, his jawline, his collarbone. Everywhere he touches me I feel like electricity. I love this I love this I love this.

The front door bangs open, Peeta walking in. Ian simply looks over at him, disappointed. But I scramble to fix my rumpled clothes, to fetch Ian's shirt. I feel so embarrassed all of a sudden.

Peeta smiles his boyishly good-looking smile. I feel like throttling him. "Hello," I mumble as I pass him.

"Having fun?" He claps my shoulder.

I glare at him, biting back a mix of a smile and angry words. Ian's face is in an adorable smile as he pulls his shirt and a sweatshirt over his head. I resist the urge to throttle him too.

"We _were_," I say, making Ian blush red, "until you came in."

Peeta's innocent grin widens. "Oh, little sis," he says. I forgot that Katniss and he are getting married. Peeta turns around, dropping some bread on the counter. "I'm heading back. I only brought some raisin bread over. See you." He waves and exits.

Ian grins and pulls me back to him, our faces millimeters from touching. "Again?" he whispers.

I smile and touch my mouth to his. "Sorry, I can't. Elly and I have plans for a 'girls' night out'."

Ian's smile disappears and he sighs. "Okay. Go have fun."

"I'm sorry," I whisper, looking at him.

He doesn't respond. I simply kiss his cheek and grab my jacket on the way downstairs.

A car horn honks as I walk out the door, tugging my jacket on. "Hey, Primrose!" Elly says, smiling. "Ready for fun?"

"Very," I say. "You look gorgeous."

"You think?" Elly says, flashing a crooked grin. Her hair is straight and falls in perfect alignment. Her bangs have been brought out to the side and she wears a black hat, a white t-shirt with a brown leather jacket over it, black jeans and dark blue ankle boots. Her eyes are adorned with black eyeshadow and mascara. She looks dark and mysterious, but very pretty. "Thanks."

She looks like…

"I just bought all this a few days ago. I'm changing my style."

…

"You really like it?"

Cassia James.

"I—I really like it." I smile, or attempt to. I probably look like I have a toothache.

"Well, let's get going." She starts the car, pushing some hair out of her face.

"This is going to be awesome," I state, running a hand through my hair to mess it up.

"You smell like Ian," she says, grinning. "Did you two have a nice, long goodbye?"

"Shut up, you—" I shove her shoulder and she shoves me back, both of us laughing. _This_ is the real us, _this_ is our friendship. Laughing in a car, getting sodas and putting our feet up on the dashboard, trying on clothes and rating the outfits. This is us, and I am so happy we're back the way we used to be.

"Where to first?" The sun is just starting to set, casting a pinkish-gold glow.

"How about Cara's Boutique?" I suggest, pointing to the old, run-down sign. Elly raises her eyebrows and curls her lip slightly, and I get the hint. "Oh, come on. I've been in there before. It's really nice on the inside, okay? Please?"

"Fine, but next we get to go to Icy Subject."

"The hipster store?" I groan.

"Yea, the hipster store. Hurry it up there, Mrs. Reseda. We don't have all night."

I stick my tongue out and climb out of the car, retying my shoelaces. The missing letters on the sign have been replaced with slightly fresher new ones. CARA'S BOUTIQUE stands out in thick red block letters. Elly makes a "huh" sound at the sight of the door, whitewashed with a cracked window.

But when I push open the whitewashed door with a cracked window, her mouth opens. "Holy crap," she says, giggling. "All this, behind that?"

"Like cracking open a walnut, ain't it?" a good-natured voice sounds from behind us. It's a girl dressed like she belongs in the country side, with a white jacket and black boots. "Sorry about the outside. We're tryin' to fix it up nicely, to attract s'more customers." Her accent is very cowgirl-ish. Her hair in ringlets, it spills down her back, golden. She can't be older than twenty. "I'm Shirley. You mighta met my momma, Cara? She runs the place."

"Oh yes. I met her. I'm Primrose Everdeen. This is Elly Opal." I smile at her. She smiles back, her eyes wide.

"Primrose Everdeen? The victor from Twelve? Oh my god, I've been dyin' to meet you! Can I have y'all's aw-to-graph?"

"Sure!" I say happily. "What would you like signed?"

"Here," she exclaims, thrusting a piece of paper at me. I take a pen from the counter and scribble a signature. Shirley looks at it like it's the most valuable thing in the world. "Thank you, Primrose. Anything you want, take. On the house." She puts a hand on my shoulder before being struck with an idea. "Here's my phone number," she says printing a sequence of numbers on a strip of scrap paper. "If y'all ever need anything, just holler, m'kay? Like I said: everythin's on the house."

"Whoa—thank you."

Elly looks bored and picks at a cuticle. "I'm not gonna wait till you propose, miss," she says, pointing to Shirley. "She's my date, not yours."

_"Elly!" _I hiss, shocked at her behavior.

Shirley looks surprised and hurt. "Oh—I'm sorry. Have a nice day," she says to me.

"Elly! How could you be so rude?" I explode, my hands gesturing toward Shirley.

"Well, I was waiting forever! She's your biggest fan, you know, that's kinda annoying."

"I'm sorry if people like me," I say angrily. "But they like me because I killed people and because I fell in love with another tribute in the arena! D'you really think I want to be famous for that?"

Elly presses her lips together, looking daggers at me. "Okay. I'm sorry." She hugs me quickly. She smells like vanilla and mint and coffee. I grip her back. We break away, grinning. "Let's shop till we drop."

"Everything's free," I say with flair, pretending to model a knit hat.

We grab sweaters, jeans, boots, heels, flats, t-shirts, scarves, hats, headbands, skirts, leggings, tank tops; it's like heaven to both of us. Makeup lines the counters and we sweep some of those into our bags as well. I tell Elly to leave some things so we don't buy out the whole store. She nods, a miniskirt and a bottle of nail polish clutched in her hand.

Eventually we can hardly carry anything else. Shirley comes to check everything out. Elly apologizes and Shirley instantly makes hurried protests. "Don't y'all worry 'bout a thing. It's fine." She smoothes out a shirt I picked out, with little gray-green flowers all over it. "Where d'you live, sugar?" she asks Elly with a nervous smile plastered on her face.

"I live with Primrose, and I have since my parents died," Elly answers perfectly, with no hesitation or shakiness whatsoever.

"Oh, I am sorry," she says sympathetically, and Elly shrugs.

"Well, all of y'all's stuff is checked out. Y'all have a g'day now, you hear?"

"Thank you," I say, smiling. "You have a good day too."

We wave as we leave Cara's Boutique and Shirley. "She's cool," I say to Elly.

"Yeah. Now to Icy Subject!" she cheers, marching triumphantly toward the little black store. I roll my eyes and push my hair back, following behind Elly.

The little store is full of skulls and weird pictures and anime stuff. Elly instantly begins checking out some shirt with a design of zippers all across it. "You like?" she asks.

"Eh," I say, shrugging.

"What about this?" She holds up a black skirt with teeth all over it.

"It's…very…"

"You're right. Much too simple." She throws it back.

I see a ton of kids everywhere. They must not be rich, because this shop is literally dirt cheap. Elly's skirt cost seven cents. Peering around, I notice that they have nose rings, tattoos, ripped clothing even in this winter, and pale, sunken faces with heavy-lidded eyes.

With a jolt of recognition, I see The Sleaziness.

"Elly!" I hiss, grabbing her wrist. "We have to go, quickly, c'mon—"

"What? No! I went to the Boutique!" She pulls her arm back, admiring a hat with erasers printed on it.

"You liked it, didn't you?"

"Well, yeah, but you promised, Primrose!" Her last words are loud.

Xavier and Maze, the two leaders of the group, turn around. Maze, her earrings touching her shoulders, gives a cruel smile. Her brown hair, twisted into a hipster-y updo, is streaked with blue. "Well, if it ain't Primrose Everdeen," she says in a low, triumphant voice. Xavier gives a laugh, pushing his scraggly hair out of his eyes.

"Why'd you leave us, little girlie?" he growls, clutching a bottle in his hands. The sky outside is getting darker.

"I was bored," I say, trying to be confident. "I was tired of being an emo coward vampire girl, you know?"

"Why're you here, then?" Kyle asks, his arm around Amy, who kisses his neck. "It's not like Icy Subject is for little rich kids, right?"

"She came with me," Elly says, stepping forward, her beanie on her head, fixing her leather jacket. "If you'd kindly shut up, maybe I'll spare you the humiliation of getting socked in the mouth by me."

Xavier opens and closes his mouth. "You've got spunk, girl," he says, walking over to her and soon they are face to face. "Good-looking, too…" He grabs her wrist and pulls her forward, lips puckered.

Elly smacks him in the face so hard I almost feel it. "Get. Away. From. Me," she says, each word long and drawn-out and icy cold. Xavier's cheek is bright red, like the rest of his face. "You—"

I put a hand on Elly's shoulder. "You don't need to do that," I say. "I don't want to get into trouble."

"That's right, little girl," Maze says. "You were always like that, Rosie. Always a little fraidy-cat who always did the good thing, right? Never fooled around with boys or drunk or anything, right?"

Her words sting my skin as though they were tracker jackers. "I do have a boyfriend," I spill out. "Unlike you."

"What—I have a boyfriend!" she says angrily, indicating Xavier.

"Oh my freaking god, this place is lame," Elly says. "Let's go, Primrose." She takes my hand and pulls me out. We leave to cat-calls. Maze shrieks after us, "Lookit the girrrrrrrlfriends!"

The night has fully fallen. Elly and I look at each other and start laughing hysterically. "What idiots," she states, grinning.

"I know. To think I was part of their group." A shudder traces my spine. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For getting us into that."

"How did you get us into that? It was me. I'm the one who's sorry." She sighs. "Good god. Let's just get home."

"Yes, please," I say exasperatedly, covering my face with my hands.


	25. Chapter 25

_Don't Look Back—Chapter 25_

**A/N: Okay, hopefully this gets put up the day after 24, but it may not. This chapter is going to pose a HUGE threat to the assassination of Snow. The "bad thing" may last for quite a few more chapters. Probably like six to ten. The awful thing is what Primrose worked so hard for will all be reversed. So you probably won't enjoy Ch. 25…**

Chapter 25—Prisoner

Prim's POV

_A few days later_

The bushes behind us rustle slightly. Elly frowns, her brows contracting. Her pace quickens and I roll my eyes, walking faster. But I must say, it seems like there are shadows moving across the ground.

"Primrose!" Elly whispers, pointing. "Do you hear something?"

"No…" I put a hand on Elly's shoulder. "You're being paranoid. No one would attack us."

The click of a trigger makes me whirl around, my blood running cold. Elly's face drains of all color as she stares, white-lipped, some place behind me...

"Little girls," a voice calls, jeering. "Come quietly, or I kill you."

"N-no!" Elly calls hoarsely.

"Who are you?" I ask, louder.

A woman with silvery light hair and a mask over her face grabs us from behind. I kick and lash out while Elly goes limp helplessly.

"Elly—help!" I gasp, for the woman's hand clamps on my throat.

The man steps into view, a mask over his face as well. He has gray-brown hair and a slim body. "Why—are you—taking us?" I choke.

"Maureen, release the hold on her throat," the man says calmly.

Maureen the Silver Lady removes her hands from my throat. I can soon breathe freely again.

"I'm taking you prisoner because of the threat you pose to Mr. Cornelius Snow," Warren says calmly. "I am a spy, sent by the Capitol. We are aware that you plan to assassinate him. You must be taken prisoner—or executed, your choice. We will bring you to the Capitol and you will be kept. Make no attempt to escape. I have a gun and I am not afraid to use it."

I feel dizzy. Everything seems like it happened so fast. One minute we were walking, and in two seconds we're being threatened at gunpoint. But that's Twelve. Everything either happens quickly or not at all.

"Please let us go," Elly pleads, tears streaming down her face. "I have a girlfriend—and my—" She dissolves into dry sobs, Maureen clutching the back of her leather jacket. It's so strange, seeing cool, composed Eleanor become tiny, afraid Elly.

The weirdest thing is that I'm not full of terror at the people threatening to shoot me. I'm whitewashed with red-hot fear because I'm going to lose Ian, Cassia, Katniss and Peeta…

_"Let us go!"_ I scream. I kick and punch and twist my body as though I'm in agony. Maureen gives a harrumph of displeasure. I yank my arm free and grabble for her mask.

But Warren draws me back, stuffing a rag into my mouth and securing a strip of cloth over that. He cuffs my wrists but leaves my eyes free. I can only imagine they must be huge with fear. Maureen draws my arms back. Elly has suffered the same treatment as me, only she is blindfolded.

"Why is she blindfolded?!" I try to scream, but only muffled noises come out. Warren's lips curl into a smile. He seems to understand.

"Your dear friend Elly Opal is not our main focus of attention, though she is a risk nonetheless. You, my darling Wave, are our biggest threat back at the Capitol. You are smarter, faster, and more agile than the average teenage girl. I suppose Mister Ian Reseda knows this quite well…?"

My cheeks flush in anger and I stumble out of Maureen's grasp, kicking at Warren. My foot connects with the soft flesh of his stomach. He yells and falls backward, clutching his middle. "Maureen," he hisses. She shrinks back, gripping my forearms again. "Do not release your hold on Miss Everdeen. Or you will become much more than an Avox."

Maureen nods rapidly. Warren winces, standing upright. "Good move, little Wave," he says, his voice dripping with venom. "The Capitol can use you. As for Eleanor…"

He lashes out, removing her rag and cloth and pouring a liquid into her mouth. She gags and swallows. He removes her cuffs next, keeping the blindfold on. Shoving her into the bushes, I hear a hard _plunk_. I try to scream once again but to no avail.

"Now we leave," he says, a hard, cold smile on his face, and he brings down his fist.

The last thing I think is _Ian._

_A long while later_

I wake on a bed, my head hurting immensely. Rubbing it, I look around. I am in a room with pure white walls and ceiling, and a bluish tile floor. There are no windows, no doors, and no bars. It doesn't seem to be a cell.

Looking down, I realize the bed is one that doctors use during checkups in the doctor offices in the Capitol. I'm dressed in a loose-fitting gown and naked underneath. My feet are bare, my hair is washed, and my skin bears no bruises or cuts. I look like a model with no makeup and no fancy clothing.

I stand up, thank god feeling no electric shocks or zaps, like the ones Katniss used to restrain me a long while ago. Stretching my legs, I feel against the walls for any hidden buttons or levers. I scour ever inch of the strange white room, looking for any sign of escape.

And when I turn around, a man and a woman stand in front of me. I recognize Maureen immediately from her silvery blonde hair, but the man I do not until he speaks.

"My darling Everdeen," Warren drawls. I stand my ground. "You look so very plain."

"You put me in this gown," I saw, my teeth gritted and my cheeks flushing so hot it must sear their faces. Maureen's tongueless mouth shapes into a grin.

"You're quite beautiful," Warren says, amused.

"Shut up." I run forward, bringing my arm down, trying to rake his face with my fingernails. He raises his eyebrows coolly. Suddenly my arms still at my sides. I look up, too surprised to be angry.

"We've implanted a microchip in you," Warren explains. "You are now under our control. Right now we are limited to stopping your physical actions. Eventually we will be able to control your mind and emotions. You will be called Jo. Or Thorn, not unlike the thorns on a rose. We are still deciding. You may even be called Jo Thorn, and take on a whole new identity. Or maybe 'The Experiment'. Ooh, I like that. Maureen, write that down."

_"You're going to control me?!" _I burst out, aghast. "But—that's impossible—you can't do that—"

"Oh, but we are. You will be designed to kill any ally of yours against us."

My heart crawls into my throat. It's like begin dropped off a cliff.

"I'm going to…kill Ian?" I say dazedly.

"Oh yes. Brilliant, eh? We're going to be doing some more tests, to speed up the control process. See you soon, Experiment." He smiles, and suddenly the two are gone. I realize they were never here, just a hologram. I let out a scream of frustration.

A woman dressed in all white enters my room as the walls seemingly slide open. I try to run toward them, but my legs are frozen to the ground, as are my arms and neck. I whisper some very angry words.

"Ah, ah, ah, language!" the woman says severely. "You will be trained not to use dirty words, actions, thoughts, etc." She smiles. "I am your trainer. My name is Melissa. You will obey me. I will first train you to believe what we believe, yes? The first step to your cooperation is to believe we are on your side and you are on ours."

I grit my teeth. "No way," I spit.

"You must cooperate. Or you will receive—_this._" She clicks a button on a small blue remote.

Instantly fire, fire fills my body, licking my bones and melting my insides, it's in my eyes, it's in my mouth, it's in my lungs…it feels like being stabbed and set on fire and being dipped in acid…my fingers and toes curl in on themselves and I collapse, screaming…icantbreatheimdyingimburningaway

And it's over. I gasp for clean, cool air. My eyes streaming, I cough and turn back to Melissa. She smiles cruelly. "Simple, yet effective use of the chip," she says softly. "So. Let's begin."

She goes quiet.

But I hear her voice in my head.

**What is your name?**

_Primrose Everdeen._

pain

**What is your name?**

_PRIMROSE EVERDEEN._

pain!

**What is your name?**

_PRIMROSE EVERDEEN!_

pain!

make it stop!

**Your name is Experiment. Did you hear that?**

_Y-yes._

**What is your name?**

_Ex-Experi—_

**Your name is not Primrose. Your name is not Primrose. Do you hear me tapping keys, implementing new information in your brain?**

_Yes._

**Your name is not Primrose Jo Everdeen. Your name is Experiment. What is your name?**

_Experiment._

**Correct. Who am I?**

_You're evil! _

pain

**You fight the microchip well. But the microchip is not bad. The microchip is good. Who am I?  
><strong>_Y-you're Melissa. My trainer._

**Correct. What do I do?**

_You train me to believe you. But I won't—I refuse—_

pain! pain!

**Remember: the microchip is good. I am helping you. You are going to be doing the right thing after I train you. I help you. I will help you win this battle. Winning is the most important thing. What do I do?**

_You will help me win this battle, because winning is the most important thing._

**Correct. Do you believe your statement thoroughly?**

_N-no!_

pain! pain!

**The pain will only get worse. You do not want to go insane. You believe your statement thoroughly. Do you believe your statement thoroughly?**

_N-no, and I never w-will!_

pain! pain! p'ain! p;ain!

**Experiment, the pain will only get worse. Do you want the pain to get worse?**

_No._

**Do you hear me tapping the new information into your brain?**

_Yes._

**Do you believe that I am helping you win this battle? Do you believe that winning is the most important thing?**

_Oh—yes! Yes I do! I am going to win!_

**Oh, look at you. You are a fast learner. Your connection to your thoughts is so strong. You almost instantly believe whatever I tell you. That is good. These next few questions will be difficult. I must remind you of some things. Ian Reseda is not your boyfriend. He does not love you. Who is Ian Reseda?**

_M-my boyfriend—you can't force me—into believing—that he is evil!_

pAiN! p''Aiin! iT hurTs. h.e;lp

**Ian Reseda is not your boyfriend. He does not love you. He betrayed you in the Games. He has tried to kill you. He has abused you. He hates you. Who is Ian Reseda?**

_The love o-of my life!_

p a to p

**Ian Reseda is not your boyfriend. He does not love you. He betrayed you in the Games. He has tried to kill you. He has abused you. He hates you. Who is Ian Reseda?**

_Ian loves me! I know that! I love him! We're—going—to—get—_

p a i n

**I believe that your belief in Ian Reseda is stronger than anything. We will come back to that last. We will come back to the people you love last. Let's move on.**

_Okay._

**Are you in pain?**

_Yes._

**Do you want to feel more pain?**

_No._

**You will believe whatever I tell you, or you will feel much more pain.**

_Yes, Melissa._

**Let us review. What is your name?**

_My name is Experiment._

**Correct. Who am I?**

_You're Melissa, my trainer. _

**I love you, Experiment. Everyone here loves you. Is not that what you always wanted?**

_All of you here love me?_

**You are weak from pain. You are willing to believe anything. Yes. We all love you. Ian Reseda hates you. Do you remember that? Who is Ian Reseda? You are so weak. You must believe this, or you will die. Any more pain and you will die.**

_Ian Reseda hates me. He abused me. He betrayed me. I hate him. I will kill him._

**Correct! You are doing very well, Experiment.**

_Thank you, Melissa. _

**Do you have a sister? This is me, putting new information into your brain. Believe the information, Experiment.**

_I have a sister. Her name is Katniss. She is evil. She hates me. She never did anything for me. I hate her. I will kill her. I believe this information._

**Correct. I am putting new information into your brain. Believe this information, Experiment. It is the truth.**

_I believe the following information: Peeta Mellark hates me as well. He abused me with Ian. He is allied with Katniss. I will kill him because I hate him._

**Correct! Experiment, you are so strong now. I will ask you some more questions. But first you must pull down the wall keeping the information I am trying to get in from entering your brain fully. You must take down that wall.**

_The wall is down._

**Oh, Experiment, how wonderful you are! But now I must ask more questions. Whose side are you on: the Capitol's, or the Rebels?**

_The Capitol. They are good and whole. The Rebels are defacing the purity of the Capitol's world. We must get rid of them._

**You are doing so well, Experiment. You are a great person. Another question, okay? Where did you grow up? Believe the information, Experiment.**

_I was Capitol-raised but I was taken to Twelve because Katniss was unhappy with the government. She forced me to believe that I belonged to the Everdeens when really; I do not know who my mother is. She does know, but made me believe that my dead "father" and my still-alive "mother" were my true family. Then Ian stole my memories before the Games and made me believe I was in love with him. He abused me after the Games with Peeta Mellark, and became violent. He was planning to marry me so I would always be his. But you rescued me._

**Very good, Experiment. That concludes today's training. As you sleep, more information will be flooded into your brain. Remember to believe the information, Experiment.**

_Thank you for helping me, Melissa._

…

I wake up in a new room, one with a comfy bed and a large window and a bookshelf and a lamp. I smile and stretch, getting up. I am dressed in tight black pants, a gray long-sleeved shirt and a black vest, and my hair is tied back in a slick ponytail. I wear flat-soled boots and a bit of black makeup smudged around my eyes.

I believe the information with my whole mind. Ian Reseda, Katniss Everdeen, Peeta Mellark, Eleanor Opal, and Haymitch Abernathy never loved me. They took my memories. Now I am good. Everyone here loves me.

The door to my cell slides open. Melissa steps in. "Hello, Experiment," she says, smiling.

"Hello, Melissa. Are we doing more training today?"

"Yes, but later. You are going to be getting physical exercise today. You are going to become a warrior." She smiles and takes my hand. "Let us go for a walk."

"Why am I training to become a warrior?" I ask, gripping her hand.

Her eyes smile. "Is not it obvious, Experiment?" she asks. "You are going to kill Ian Reseda, along with the rest of his allies.

Melissa's POV

I take Experiment for a walk. She's been pointing at flowers and telling me what their names and origins are. I explain to her that these were all grown for her.

Last night I discovered that she is very weak. Her physical limits are small. If you inflict enough pain on her, she will crack in half. She learns very quickly, however. Her large brain adapts at the speed of light. She will be a very good warrior. We just need to expand her physical limits.

She believes that Katniss Everdeen, Haymitch Abernathy, Peeta Mellark, Eleanor Opal, and—most importantly—Ian Reseda hate her, have abused and tried to kill her, and never done anything for her. She believes they erased her memories and kidnapped her. And that is absolutely unthinkable, for her to learn that in one night.

I am now working on little things, like forming images of her "old house and family" in the Capitol. I will be convincing her I am her mother. I think we should also concentrate on making her look different. She must leave her old self completely behind.

"Melissa," the Experiment chirps, her blue eyes wide and full of fire. "When will I go into District Twelve and eradicate Ian Reseda and his allies?"

"In a week, my Experiment," I say soothingly. I am supposed to act like a mother to her. The more she trusts me, the leader of this operation, the better.

"Melissa," the Experiment pipes up again. I smile down at her.

"Yes, my dear Experiment?"

"How old am I?"

I pull my keyboard out from my handbag. It is very special. It is hooked up to the microchip in the Experiment's body. I tap a few keys. "Believe the information, Experiment," I say softly. She closes her eyes as the data enters her brain. This bit of information is true.

"I am seventeen," she proclaims, smiling as though she's won the Hunger Games. "That is so cool, how you can put the truth in me again." The Experiment wraps her arms around me. I pat her hair.

"You are a very good person, Experiment," I say to her. We are supposed to encourage her, to praise her. She will most likely react in a positive way to praise.

"Thank you, Melissa," the Experiment says.

"Now, Experiment, you must become physically stronger," I say to her. "You are very stable mentally. Physically you must become agile and withstanding. Do not worry, you will not have to run for long distances or exercise too intensely. We are working on a microchip that will make you nearly invincible. You must walk only a quarter of a mile everyday. I will accompany you. Does that sound nice, Experiment?"

"Yes, that sounds very nice. Thanks for helping me." The Experiment wraps her arms around me.

"You are a very sweet girl, Experiment," I say quietly, soothingly. "I love you."

"I love you too, Melissa."

We walk around for awhile, the Experiment observing different organisms and pointing each one out. I type a few more quips of information into her brain. It is amazing how we can make her believe almost anything with a few taps of a few buttons. She is a remarkable learner and a remarkable fighter. She just needs to accept both and become the Capitol's true Experiment, and rid our country of the Rebels, the Rebels trying to assassinate the President and overthrow our government.

"It is time for more training, Experiment," I coo, stroking her hair. She smiles.

"That is great. I feel like I've been too cutesy. I'm ready to become a warrior."

"It is good that that is the case, my dear." I sit her down on a bench. "We shall do it right here. I have my keyboard, do I not?"

Elly's POV

I groan and sit up, wincing as a sharp pain pounds through my head. Opening my eyes, I see that it is nearly noon. Terror floods my insides.

The man, Warren, poured a bitter, clear liquid down my throat. I think it was supposed to take away my memories, but it didn't. I remember being shoved into a bush, though. The blindfold lies next to me, torn by the bristles in the plant.

Primrose.

Primrose is gone, taken to the Capitol. A cold liquid seems to seep throughout my body, freezing my bones. I feel nothing but numb with disbelief.

After all she worked for to get to Ian, after we finally made up, after Cassia was finally showing signs of progress.

She was snatched from our fingertips and placed into the darkness of the Capitol.

I strain to remember what Warren said exactly. Even if the memory liquid didn't work, it's still hard to remember. My head still hurts terribly.

Warren said he knew that we were planning to kill Snow and overthrow the government. He also said that I was of no importance to him because Primrose was faster, smarter, etc. That must mean they're planning to do something with her. I feel my breath catch and my heartbeat quicken. She's gone. She's really gone.

_Ian._

_ What is Ian going to think? Do? Feel?_

I take the blindfold in my hand. It's silk and very smooth. I grip it tightly, feeling my fingernails through it. It's a clue, definitely. If I look close enough, I can see Primrose's footprints still embedded in the ground. Warren and Maureen must've covered theirs up, because I only see two sets: hers and mine.

I must be too shocked to feel guilt, but I know eventually it'll wash over me, drowning me.

We were so close to VV, too. Less than fifteen yards from the entrance. In the gardens. My head spins violently. I can see her house perfectly fine from here. There's a light on. Ian must be so worried.

I stumble to their front door, knocking twice, the tears coming now.

The door opens. "Elly!" Ian gasps, taking my hands. "What happened?"

I shake my head, swallowing bile. "I'll tell you inside." I begin to full-out sob, sliding against the doorframe. I want to bang my head against it.

Ian pulls me gently to a chair, sitting me down in it. He takes a spot across from me, still touching my fingers. "Where's Primrose?" he asks, an octave of fear in his voice.

"She—she got taken to the—C-Capitol," I burst out, putting my face in my hands. My shoulders shake. When I peel my head up, I see that Ian is sitting rigid as a board, his eyes expressionless. I can only assume fire is slowly spreading throughout him, like it is to me.

"Katniss!" I call, still wiping tears away from my cheeks. If Ian's going to be the one in a fetal position, than I have to be the strong one. "Katniss! I need to talk to you!"

She comes racing down the stairs, her braid half-done. Her eyes grow wide with fear when she sees Ian.

"Oh my god, where is Primrose?" she whispers.

I tell her the full story, from us walking home to Warren confronting us to me being shoved into a bush. Katniss just kind of smoothes her hair back. Peeta came up behind her at one point, and his face is blank. "Someone has to tell Cassia," I say bleakly. Katniss nods, her breath now coming up short. Peeta moves toward her, but she's gone, out the door, the sound of dry sobs echoing behind her.

Ian sits up, his eyes very red. "She's r-really gone?" he asks, so quietly and hoarsely that I hardly hear him.

I nod gravely.

He gets to his feet. I grab his wrist. "We _will_ get her back," I say fiercely. "She's not gone. She's just visiting the Capitol."

"Don't try to make me feel b-better about this," he says, and I'm moved with pity. "Don't be an idiot, either. 'Visiting the Capitol'."

"I'm sorry, that sounded too light—"

"What did I do? Just v-visit Ten?" His eyes search mine. "Can you ever try to make p-people feel good, not hurt?" He breaks free of my grip and is gone, upstairs, presumably to Primrose's room.

I sit in the chair again, wanting to become smoke and float away into nothingness.

Ian's POV

The room smells like her, like flowers and bread and wind. There are pictures of us on the bedside table; three, to be exact.

One is of us kissing, her arms around my neck as she stands on tiptoe, my arms around her waist, bringing her close to me. Our eyes are closed, our eyelashes touching. Her head is tipped upward, since she's so much shorter than I am. Her toes touch mine. She's wearing a striped orange tank top and sunglasses are propped up on her head. I wear jeans and a collared white shirt. Her hair is pulled back into a messy french braid while mine is haphazardly sticking up everywhere.

The second one is of us simply hugging. She is laughing and looking up at me. I'm smiling and looking down at her. My arms are wrapped around her waist and hers are around my shoulders. She wears my overlarge t-shirt and some boy shorts while I wear her black scarf and a green t-shirt. She looks so happy, her nose nearly touching mine.

The third one is of us as thirteen- and fourteen-year-olds. This was taken in the few weeks before I was relocated to Ten. She looks _so young_. She's about a foot shorter and much less tan. Her hair is shorter and cropped slightly. She wears a gray shirt with yellow flowers on it. Her arm is around my shoulders as she poses, her huge smile and happy eyes frozen on the picture. My smile is big as well as I put my arm across her shoulders, imitating her. My hair is longer and tamer. We look so innocent.

Katniss took all of those pictures for us.

I wrap her blanket around my shoulders. She has a drawer labeled PICTURES. I slide it open, the shiny material of the photographs glinting in the light of her lamps.

A small, first-grade version of her smiles up at me. Her mother, looking twenty years younger and much less tired, stands behind her, a hand on her shoulder. A man who can only be her father stands behind a tiny Katniss, whose hair is in two braids. The two look just like their parents; Katniss, her father and her, her mother.

Pictures of her and Elly, her as a baby, her with her father. They all litter the drawer. I feel the overwhelming feeling of love and losses choke me. I crawl back into her bed. I kissed her on this bed. I slept with her on this bed. I talked to her on this bed. I held her on this bed.

I miss her so much already. Is this what it was like after I was taken?

Why us? Why did this happen not only once, but twice, to us? We've never done anything wrong, we've been good people, we've fought through so much. And this is our reward? Being separated twice? The difference is, she's likely going to die while I was just been held captive. She'll become a memory while I was always supposed to be a threat. She doesn't deserve any of this.

She never did and never will.

Primrose's POV

**Let's review. What is your name?**

_Experiment._

**Who am I and what do I do?**

_You're Melissa, my trainer. You help me rediscover the truth about my life. You love me._

**Who are you planning to wipe off the face of the Earth?**

_Ian Reseda, first and foremost. Next my sister, Katniss. Then Eleanor Opal. Finally Haymitch Abernathy and Cassia James._

**You are a fast learner, Experiment. You are very ahead of schedule. We may be able to send you out in less than four days now.**

_The sooner I am out, the better, Melissa._

**How right you are, my dear. They may even come looking for you, in which case you can release your fury on them.**

_Yes. Of course. May I have some supper now? I'm quite hungry._

Melissa turns off her keyboard. "Of course, my darling." She smiles at me and pats my hand. "Let us go."

We walk down a few hallways. The room we were in was full of strange and exotic plants. Melissa told me it is all dedicated to me. I love this place. It is like heaven.

The walls are decorated with glass-pane windows. If I stand on my tiptoes I can see the lake. "Come along, Experiment," Melissa says kindly.

The mess hall is where we all eat. Today's dinner is a turkey sandwich with lettuce and tomato, carrots and green beans, a small slice of cake, and a glass of milk. It smells very good. Melissa and I both get a plate. "It is supposed to be the perfect amount of every part of the food pyramid," she explains.

We eat, talking about the plans for the eradication. Melissa is very upbeat and lively as she talks. She is such a good person.

The Capitol works so fast that it is almost frightening. Melissa tells me that four days may even be erased. I could be out in forty-eight hours. "We need the element of surprise," she says, sipping her milk. "They must be expecting at least two weeks. At least two days—that is much different."

"I just want to kill them," I say coldly. I feel no love for anyone but the good people here. Burning, icy hot hatred crashes through me. Ian Reseda took my memories of the only people I love, the people in the Capitol. I hate him so much, words cannot explain.

"And you shall be able to," Melissa says, smiling proudly. "Soon enough, my dear Experiment."

"How long will the eradication take, do you think?" I ask.

"Likely more than three days. You want to torture them before you watch the light bleed from their eyes, do you not?"

"Of course I do," I say, smiling. "I will toy around with them; watch them suffer as they made me suffer. That is all that I desire."

Melissa puts her hand on top of mine. "You are a good girl, Experiment."

"Thank you." I finish off my milk and set the cup down. "Shall we go talk to Warren and Maureen?"

"I think that would be best. They are ecstatic, my dear. You are an incredibly fast learner. That is why instead of several weeks, the eradication will begin in a few days. It is all because of you."

I smile. "Thank you." I hug Melissa tightly. I love her most of all. I feel as though I have known her all my life.

"I am your mother," she says abruptly. "When I had your sister, I knew immediately she was going to be repulsed at the idea of the government. So when she was seven she left for Twelve with a Capitolite Rebel, the Everdeen man. You, as a tiny baby, went with her. You were reaped. I kn-knew you should not have gone back. But Katniss took you from my arms and off you w-went to Twelve." She wipes her eyes. "Before you w-were reaped, Ian Reseda must have taken your memories. He told you what he made up. And you believed him, because you were weak from memory loss. I watched you in those Games. You fell in love with the boy. My heart was broken. How could he convince you to love him while you knew nothing else? During the Games, Ian sided with the Careers, and that is where he started to try and kill you. He did it very cleverly, so none of it would be too obvious to the audience. You still believed he loved you. And you two made it out alive, thanks to the Rebels. After the Games, Ian became even more violent. He abused you and tried to kill you much more frequently and terribly. Peeta Mellark joined him, under Katniss's orders and his own feelings. The Capitol rescued you before you could complete the action they made you believe was right: murdering President Snow."

"Oh, Melissa," I say, hugging her again. "I am so sorry. I will kill each and every one of them for separating us and for breaking your heart. They will be tortured and killed. They will suffer immensely for their crimes. I will protect our President. And Ian Reseda—" I smile.

"He will be the last to go, for I want to watch the life leave his body."


	26. Chapter 26

_Don't Look Back—Chapter 26_

**A/N: I am really, really excited about the path this story is taking. That last chapter was really fun to write—not because of Primrose leaving Ian or anything, that part is immensely sad. But it was like I created a whole new universe. Anyway, enjoy Ch. 26!**

Chapter 26—Maureen's Story

Ian's POV

"Ready the aircraft. We're going to get her."

Prim's POV

I stand about ten feet away from the dummy. When I look at it, I see Ian Reseda. Fury licks my bones and I throw the spear forward, a pure rage emitting from me.

The shaft sticks out of the chest, slightly to the left. A definite killing blow. I smile as straw falls out of the dummy, dropping to the floor. I am very proud of how quickly I have re-mastered the skills I portrayed in the Games.

Warren nods. "Very good, Experiment." He raises an eyebrow. "You realize you are a medical miracle and a medical mystery, of course. We simply are dumbfounded. You learn about _sixty times faster_ than a normal human being! Do you know how extraordinarily terrifying that is? That is why we are sending you out tomorrow. _Tomorrow! _Three days after we captured you!"

"For the element of surprise, I presume," I say meekly, grabbing a sword and running my fingers across the blade.

"Exactly, my Experiment. You may proceed in the tweaking of your skills."

I wrap my fingers around the hilt, stepping toward another row of dummies. I jab and thrust, twirl and duck, swipe and jump. Everything works in perfect harmony.

"You are quite befuddling," Warren says.

A head of silvery-blonde hair appears next to Warren. She seems to have to come to watch as well. I massacre another few dummies.

"Alright, that's enough, my dear." Warren puts a hand on my shoulder, smiling down at me. "We do not want to exhaust you too much."

Maureen nods, her tongueless mouth in a grin. She holds up a sign with a 10 on it. I pretend to bow.

"I do not believe you are the one giving the orders here, Vinson," a cold voice says. It is not my mother. It is another man, with a teenaged boy and girl standing behind him. His hair is gray and combed back, his eyes pale as quartz and just as hard. "Maureen Hanker," he says softly, his tongue lengthening each syllable. She flinches, her fingertips curling into her palms. "You do look limp, for twenty years of age."

She opens her mouth as if to try to talk, but closes it as if she has remembered she cannot.

The man inclines his head in my direction. "And you, Experiment."

I nod. The atmosphere in the room has changed drastically since this man walked in the room.

"The medical anomaly."

"That would be me." I smile. The confidence implemented in me must be showing, because the man looks slightly annoyed. I do not see why.

"You should learn to talk more tamed to the leader of the Eradication, should you not?" he asks softly, dangerously.

"My apologies, sir." I brush my hair off my forehead. "I was unaware you were the leader."

"I came to request a meeting with Warren." His quartz eyes, cruel and cold as ice shards, narrow as he smiles. "Come, Vinson."

Warren and the man walk to the door. "Oh, and Experiment?" the quartz-eyed man says. "You are quite the wonder." His mouth curls into a smirk.

Maureen's eyes are wide and glassy as the man leaves.

"I'm sorry, Maureen," I say softly. "He is pompous."

She shakes her head. I understand. She is terrified of him.

"Did he make you an Avox?" The emotions they implemented in me shine through like the confidence did. They put in a small, minor microchip before they attempted to put in the invincibility chip. It is designed to strengthen certain emotional qualities and also diminish certain emotional flaws. It helps along the emotions of happiness, love, sympathy, care, warmth, and hope toward Capitol people, the people who love me. It strengthens—and rightfully so, I daresay—the emotions of hate, sadness, anger, disgust, and hostility toward the Rebels.

Maureen nods sadly at my question. She gently pats my shoulder. Taking a quill and paper, she writes in careful, neat handwriting:

_This must be illegal, but I do not believe I will be caught. There are no security cameras in this room. But I love you, Experiment; I truly do, so I will break the Law. I do not care._

"You will break the law to tell me your story?" I say, lips parted. "Maureen, no, you must not—"

_You deserve to know. I am proving that I trust you, Experiment. Do not tell me I am wrong in thinking that you trust me._

"Oh no, Maureen, I trust you wholeheartedly." I put a hand on her arm. "You can proceed, if you like."

_I was a former Rebel. I was young and pretty at sixteen, one year younger than you. I spoke my mind about the Games. I believed, foolishly, that they were wrong. But they are not. They are good. They keep the Districts in check. The Games were and are a wonderful gift to society, you know that._

"I do. I agree with you. But you are still pretty, Maureen." The words on her paper shimmer and disappear every time she finishes a paragraph.

_Thank you, dear Experiment. I am limp, though. Just like Quintus said._

"That is his name, then? Quintus?"

_Yes. Quintus. But that is unimportant at the moment. _

_ As I stated, I was a Rebel. I spoke on street corners where the Peacekeepers did not; I whispered petty plans of rebellion to people in my neighborhood. _

_ One fateful day a Peacekeeper on rare patrol of Courier New Boulevard caught me in the middle of my sentence._

_ "The Capitol shall burn to the ground, every pillar of its castle collapsing into rubble," I was proclaiming when I was grabbed from behind._

_ The Peacekeeper held a gun to my head and brought me to the Capitol. I was made an Avox instantly. I regret becoming a Rebel. Do you see what being a Rebel will do to you?_

"I am ashamed of who I was—or who I thought I was," I say. "It is good that you were taken to the Capitol. I shudder at the thought of what could have happened to you."

_As do I, little Experiment. Choose your paths wisely, watch your steps. You never know when the pillar of your castle may collapse into rubble. _Maureen strikes a match and lights the paper and quill on fire until they both burn to nothing but smoldering ashes cupped in the palm of her hand. She rubs them between her fingers, making her fingertips black.

"How do you tolerate that?" I ask, eyes wide.

She traces a few words in the ashes that now lay on the floor.

_Your mother is a genius._

My brows furrow. "Everyone here is."

She gives me a smile and shakes her head, pointing to herself.

"You are very smart!" I say, indignant.

Maureen smiles more sadly.

"Oh yes, the tongueless wonder is a megamind," an icy voice says. It is the quartz-eyed man, his crisp white suit nearly matching his eyes.

Maureen shrinks back, hiding her black fingers. She covers the ashes on the ground with her foot.

But I feel no hate for this man. He seems familiar.

"I am Ignoti Imperium, the leader of this mission. And Maureen is just a side effect. You shall not associate yourself with her, Experiment. _Melissa!_" Ignoti calls, smiling. Maureen's eyes are wide.

My mother steps through the doorway, her keyboard tucked under her arm. "Mother!" I chirp, giving her a hug.

"Hello, my darling Experiment." Melissa's curly hair is tied back in a bouncy ponytail and her white collared shirt looks magnificent with the chocolate color of her hairstyle. "We must implement a new piece of information into your brain."

"Oh—right away?"

"Yes, my daughter." Melissa smiles at Maureen.

Maureen must try to scream "No!" but no legible sound comes out, only a strangled noise. She tries to rush forward, but Ignoti holds her back. She spits hair out of her mouth, struggling madly against Ignoti's iron grip.

"Oh no, Miss Avox. You are not important. You are a pawn in this giant game of chess. You are limited."

Maureen brings up her hand and rakes my mother's face with her fingernails, black with soot. Melissa gives a shout of pain, holding her own hands up to her cheek.

"Mother! Are you harmed?" I gently bring her hands down to her sides. Red marks span from her bottom left cheek to her upper right eyebrow, some dripping blood. "Maureen…"

Her eyes are huge with fear. That is how she expresses herself, with eye motions. Wide, fear. Glassy, sad. Crinkled, happy. Distant, thoughtful. So many movements that I take for granted are her only way of communication.

And still, she hurt my mother.

My mother slips over to Maureen, face calm. The blood from Maureen's assault is dripping down to her shirt, staining it with pinkish designs.

"You shall pay dearly for that, Avox." She smiles, running a finger across Maureen's lips. "You are fearful now, are you not? So tragic, how our own actions bring us our downfall eventually, yes?"

Maureen shakes her head violently, trembling.

Melissa's fingers trace Maureen's cheekbones, an almost romantic gesture. They slide to her hair, running through the silvery-blonde strands. Her face is very close to Maureen's.

"It is a shame my dearest sister will pay delightedly for her crimes."

My lips part slightly as I gasp, a small, nearly silent noise.

My mother taps a few pieces of information into the keyboard. "Believe, my dear Experiment," she whispers, still staring down her sister—and my aunt. "Oh, sister, have you grown to care for the Experiment?" Melissa smiles, her red lipstick as deep and elegant as her blood.

I notice that everyone here wears no extravagant, foolish makeup. They are all simple, yet beautiful. I do not care what the reason behind this is. It must be that they do not want to be distracted by petty things such as fancy clothing, neon makeup.

And suddenly, looking at Maureen in all her disgraceful fear, I feel a burning hatred. She has done many things wrong. She has hit me and tried to manipulate me. Melissa tucks her keyboard under her arm with a smile.

I leap forward gracefully, landing like a cat, back arched. A deadly smile plays across my lips. "Revenge," I whisper almost lovingly in Maureen's ear. She begins to shake as my lips move once again. "Little Avox." I step forth once again, ready to strike—

"No, no, Experiment. She will have a choice later." Melissa grabs her sister's wrist. "You will speak with me tonight, Maurey." Maureen flinches at the sound of her title. "And we will see if family before blood applies." She kisses Maureen's cheek before taking me by the hand and dragging me out of the room, much to my protests.

"No! No! Let me go! Let me _go!_" I snarl, grabbling for the doorknob. "I will deal with her, I must win my own battles, she hit me—"

"My sister has always been evil. She will now recompense for her transgressions." My mother strokes my hair as I lean my head on her shoulder. "You need not worry about Maurey, Experiment. Ian Reseda and Katniss Everdeen are your focuses. Tomorrow you will be sent out to do off with them. You should rest well tonight, my daughter, for you have a big day tomorrow." She reminds me of a mother before the first day of school. "You will do well."

"Thank you, Mother," I say, kissing her cheek as she kissed her sister's. She runs her fingers in a circle over my hand. "I appreciate your compliments."

"What a polite, refined girl you are. And you are so beautiful. Those eyes…" She runs a finger just below them. "It is a shame you must cut and dye your hair, change your eye color. Do not worry, it is a simple microchip. We can implement it in a few hours; I am just sorting out one last error. Your looks will completely change."

"That is a small price to pay for Ian Reseda's life," I say, spreading my hands. "I do not mind in the slightest."

"Very good, my dear." Melissa puts a hand between my shoulderblades, pushing me gently to a different room. I hardly noticed that we walked through many hallways. "These are your new quarters. The last two were barren, uninteresting. I thought you might enjoy these much more."

The walls are blue with green squares, many different sizes. It looks like a piece of abstract art. The bedspread is the same shade as the wall's base color, with white and blue pillows propped up on top of it. A white dresser sits a few feet away from the bed, a white bookcase full of novels directly across from it. Plush white carpeting adorns the floor, a crystal chandelier hanging from the very tall ceiling.

"Mother…" A smile the size of Panem must spread across my face. I turn and hug her tightly, her curly hair tickling my nose. "Thank you ever so much."

"You deserve everything in the world," Melissa says, her fingers brushing my cheek. "I am sorry I cannot give you that."

"But you have," I say pointedly. Melissa smells like smoke and bleach. It burns my nose, but I hardly care. She is the best mother I could ask for. "You saved me. You brought me back the world. I cannot thank you enough."

Melissa smiles, a strange light in her eyes. It seems like triumph. I do not blame her; it must feel wonderful receiving your lost child. "You cannot?"

"Thank you multiplied by three million?" I offer. She smiles, expressionless with a bit of chill.

"That is what you used to say, did you not?"

"Well, yes, but—"

My mother is already tapping on her keyboard. Whenever a new piece of information or data is plugged into my mind, a strange sensation trickles through me. It makes everything around me a bit blurry and fuzzed, and I may only focus on that data.

Just like now. I cannot see Melissa's face clearly. Her features appear mixed.

"What was your 'catchphrase', dear daughter?" she asks coldly.

"Multiplied—multiplied by…I do not know!" I say, brows furrowed.

"That does not matter. I must go work on the microchip. Rest, my Experiment. You need much energy." She gently pushes me toward the bed. I sit on the edge. "Good rest, darling." The door behind her slides shut with a snap.

I kick off my training boots and pull on some more comfortable clothing: a soft gray collared shirt and silk black pants. Then I collapse into the bed. It is so warm and light that it is not unlike a cloud.

Drowse wraps his arms around me, and I go gladly into his embrace.

_The sword blade protrudes from my hand. Ian Reseda, backed against a corner, trembles in fear. He is weaponless, his shirt torn and bloody. _

_ "No, Primrose," he pleads._

_ I laugh mirthlessly. "I left Primrose in the dust long ago."_

_ "You are still in there!" Reseda cries._

_ "No," I say, eyes blazing._

_ "I am Experiment."_

I wake to my mother shaking my arm gently. "The microchip has been implemented," she whispers, her hair coming out of a bun. I blink the bleariness away.

"You said it would take a few hours," I mumble.

"It did. You slept like an infant for nearly five hours."

"Five hours?" I yelp. "Oh, dear. I did not mean to bask in sleep's glory for that long a time. I apologize wholeheartedly."

"No, no, do not become sorry. Your 'catnap' made it much simpler to put the microchip in." I feel a scar behind my ear. "Do not touch the scar, the chip may become fuddled," Melissa warns. I nod and pull the ponytail from my hair.

Or at least, I try to.

I get up from the checkup bed and slink over to a mirror, my lips parted in awe.

My hair, now a very mediocre brown, hangs just below my ears scruffily. My bangs have been swept over my forehead. My eyes are now a brilliant gray, green around the pupil and the outer edge of the iris. Stormy gray enclosed by rich green. My teeth are perfectly aligned, my lips full and reddish, and I seem to be a few inches taller. My legs, arms, feet, and hands are much more graceful and catlike. Any excess weight that was not needed was lost and replaced by muscle. A narrow waist flares to larger hips. My feet and hands are smaller and look delicate, but every movement feels sharp and precise. My hands have become fit to better hold swords and pluck bowstrings; my feet fit to run for longer distances and jump higher. I look much different, even though the facial structure is exactly the same.

"Wow," I say, lifting a finger to touch the glass. My reflection does the same, her red lips parted. "I look…so different."

"Do you like it?" my mother asks anxiously. "It would be a shame if you did not like it."

"I…I love it dearly," I murmur breathlessly. "Melissa, I am beautiful."

"That is a relief." She hugs me tightly. "I must go to a meeting with Quintus, Experiment. I put you in your proper clothing. You are being deported tomorrow, you know that. You must go do some last bits of training before we leave. Please rest tonight. And tomorrow your vengeance will be recovered."

I nod.

I am ready.


	27. Chapter 27

_Don't Look Back—Chapter 27_

**A/N: The Eradication begins…Enjoy Ch. 27!**

Chapter 27—The Eradication

Ian's POV

_A few weeks later_

_(Primrose's invincibility chip failed to work, so Melissa spent the extra time fixing it)_

"Can't we go any _faster?!_" I cry, smacking the chair in front of me with my palm repeatedly. "I hate this I hate this I hate this I hate this!"

Katniss walks over to me and grabs my wrists. Her eyes are wide, fiery. "We're going as fast as we can," she says sharply. "We all want to get to her."

"What if she dies?" I whisper feebly, through tears.

"If she dies, she dies. There's a good chance it's going to happen. If it happens, we'll miss her. But we can't go crying about that. You know if she died she wouldn't like that." Katniss touches my shoulder. "Death will be common in these battles. Death will be gruesome in these battles. Death will be devastating in these battles." Her eyes shine. "But you know what death won't be?"

I shake my head.

"It won't be the end." She smiles and kisses the top of my head as she leaves, the heat in her eyes surrendering to glass.

But won't it?

If the person you love with your whole heart, with your whole mind, dies, isn't it the end?

Isn't it?

A small voice sounds behind me. "Hello," Elly says weakly.

"Hi, Elly." I wipe my eyes hurriedly.

"You don't have to pretend you're not crying." Her voice is _so_ high, _so_ small. It's like she's nine years old. "I know." Her tiny hand takes mine, her fingers cold. "You're not alone." She sniffs and smiles sadly, her flyaway hair tossed back. She rests her head on my shoulder. She smells like tea and scented tissues. "You love her a lot, don't you?"

I nod.

"It must be nice, loving someone like her."

"It is," I say softly.

"Kinda like magic, isn't it?" Elly brushes her hair off her forehead. "Loving someone."

"What's the matter, Elly?" I ask quietly.

"Isn't everything the matter? I miss Primrose like I've never missed anyone before, even my parents. I'm nervous _out of my mind _because I'm likely going to die attempting to save Primrose _or_ I'll die trying to kill Snow. And I'm in love with Cassia James and nobody even knows but—you." She smacks her forehead. "God, I wasn't supposed to—augh…"

"You're in love with Cassia?" I ask, forgetting my misery for a split second.

Elly nods, biting her lip. "She—she was in love with Primrose for awhile, but she got over her because she knew she had no chance. Because of you. And then I met her. Instantly I was struck by how pretty and casual and funny she was. I didn't really get that I loved her yet. Primrose walked in on us laughing and talking once—after Cassia told her that she was going to be in the hospital all day. And that must've really stung Primrose, because she told us to get out while trying really hard not to cry. Then Cassia snuck out of Primrose's house to meet me just to talk before she left for the hospital and…she kissed me. But then she started getting sicker. A lot sicker. I would stay with the doctors and monitor her progress. She started getting better, but still was really, really weak. And finally she wasn't bedridden. She could use a wheelchair. We went on our first official date. And then Primrose—gone." She wipes her nose.

Cassia, right on cue, wheels over to us. "Hey, guys," she says in a voice that's so brittle and broken that it nearly breaks me. "She's really gone." It's almost like she can't believe it. "I loved her so much. And now she's gone."

"Don't worry, Cassi, everything will be fine," Elly says soothingly, her voice regaining strength, walking over to stand next to Cassia. Cassia wheels away from Elly, her now-thin long hair falling over her face.

"You don't know that, Eleanor," Cassia says, sobs creeping into her words. "You can't tell me that when she's up against the Capitol. One versus I don't even know how many. She's strong, but she's going to die."

"Cassi, don't, she'll find a way—"

"I didn't come here to talk about how strong Primrose is. I came to talk to Ian. And I'd like to talk to him alone." She shoots a pointed look at Elly, who instantly becomes hurt and defensive. She stalks away, her ponytail slipping.

"Listen, Reseda, we need to land this thing in about three minutes. We grab her and get out. There is absolutely no time to do anything but get Primrose. Do not take any longer than you need to. There'll be plenty of time for kissy-kissy-smoochy time when you get on the aircraft. D'you hear me?"

I nod.

"Then let's land."

The next two and a half minutes are agony. Everything is blurry. All I can think about it getting her back. She's only been gone for three days. But it's seemed like an eternity due to the fact that her death is almost inevitable. She may already be gone.

No. No, no. Nononononono. I can't think that. I have to focus.

"Touchdown. We have landed."

Prim's POV

I can see the craft. Melissa's instructions were to get to the craft and do what I need to do.

My face is adorned with deep red lipstick and black makeup around my eyes to highlight their gray. I am dressed in a sleek black jumpsuit, my hair still scruffy as ever.

I double-knot my shoelaces and wipe my hands on my hair. I am as ready as I will ever be.

I am armed with a sword and a knife. I have, of course, the invincibility microchip. I do not believe I can be beaten at this point.

I slink over to a tree, less than one hundred yards from the ship. My eyes narrow. The Warrior microchip they put in me gives me speed, excellent vision, quietness, and sereneness. They have gotten off of the aircraft.

My sword blade gleams in the light of the slowly sinking sun. Soon darkness will take over and I will have a slightly harder time killing them.

I dash to another tree, so quickly that my stomach jolts. I am so close. Just a bit farther—

My feet go stock-still about fifty feet away from them. I can clearly hear what they are saying.

"Do you really think she's dead?" the Opal girl says, tugging on my sister's sleeve. "She can't be."

"No, I don't think she is," Everdeen says. They are talking quite loudly. If they had half a mind they would take their voice volume down by a lot. "If she was, the Capitol would've let us know."

"Where was her last known location?" the Reseda boy demands.

The Reseda boy.

His hair curls near his collar, in desperate need of a trim. His eyes shine, even from my distance, bright as emeralds and just as rich. He wears a blue button-down and khakis. It is obvious that they are trying to disguise themselves. I restrain myself from snorting.

They are walking toward me. I grip the hilt of my blade. The knife will be of little use to me. I did little training with it, and I am much more comfortable with the sword.

Soon I will strike.

Ian's POV

"Where was her last known location?" I ask Katniss. She shakes her head gravely.

"That's the thing: we have no idea whatsoever. The last thing we knew, she was captured and flown here. Then all of our tracking devices ceased to work. We're left to explore the Capitol." Her eyes are wild. "I've almost given up hope."

"You can't possibly give up hope."

My eyes scan our surroundings. We're in a forest, but the trees are spread out more than in a Twelve or Ten canopy. Mud and vegetation decorate the ground, vines climbing up trees and twisting around branches. The sun is slowly setting, so it must be about five o'clock.

A shadow crosses the ground. My heart freezes. "Katniss. Katniss."

"What's wrong?"

"Look. There."

Just as I point, a figure leaps out from behind a tree.

A girl with scruffy brown hair and gray eyes.

"Hello," she says conversationally, as if she has no clue that there's a sword in her hand and a gun with a knife in her back pocket. She jumps forward again, landing right in front of me, her back arched. "Miss me?"

My brain goes into overdrive as my heartbeat stops and speeds up at the same time.

"Primrose?" I ask dazedly.

It must be her. The same cheekbones, the same nose, the same smile.

"Oh, no," she says, her red lips curling. "That is a name for a foolish girl. My name is Experiment." She moves so fast my eyes hardly pick her up. Suddenly her blade tip is at my throat. "And your name is Ian Reseda."

"What did they do to you?!" Katniss screams, trying to put a hand on Primrose's shoulder.

In a flash, Primrose slashes the air. Elly cries out, trying to get to Katniss. Katniss stumbles backward, holding her forearm. Primrose looks disgusted with herself.

"Well, that was a letdown. I was sure that was a killing blow." Her smile is the same smile, infused with Capitol evil.

"They've hijacked her," Elly says dreamily, touching her forehead. "They've taken her over."

"Oh my god," Katniss whispers, white-lipped and ashen. "Oh my god. Primrose. Oh my god."

Primrose has wasted no time. She has backed all of us up against a tree, her blade winking in the sunlight.

"I know what you did to me," she says. "You took me from our mother, Everdeen. You are not even fit to use that name. That is not your name. You took us from Melissa Reynolds. My name is Experiment Reynolds. Your name is Katniss Reynolds."

"Wh-what?" Katniss asks, grabbling for her bow. Primrose clucks her tongue and just as "Katniss Reynolds" fingers her bow, grabs it from her, knocking an arrow from the quiver that she wears on her back.

"Do not move or I will shoot. But do not worry, I will kill you eventually." She touches a strand of her short, scraggly hair. Warrior hair. "You, Ian Reseda," she says, and my heart beats like a caged animal, "stole my memories along with Haymitch Abernathy, Eleanor Opal, and the rest of these Rebels. You made me believe I was one of you. Warren Vinson rescued me. Now I am here, and I am here to kill you."

"Primrose, no, I know you're still in there," I plead.

She laughs viciously. "The great cliché still stands. No. The microchips they implemented into my body will not allow that." She pulls back her sleeve, many white hexagons dotting her arm. "This particular microchip," she states, touching the one highest on her arm lightly with her finger, "makes me invincible to weapons, to death, to love. You do not love me. Everyone at the Capitol loves me." She sounds so sure of herself that it makes me shudder.

Katniss scrabbles for the knife in Primrose's pocket. Blood drips down her white sleeve, staining it violently.

Primrose cuts at Katniss's head just as she ducks.

"The microchip—doesn't seem to be working," Katniss pants, clutching at her cheek.

"I am simply playing with you," Primrose says, smiling mirthlessly. "You will die eventually, as I stated before." Her fingers dance.

Her hands are warm as they touch my cheeks.

I catch her wrist and hold it to my face, trying the hardest I ever have in my lifetime not to cry. She doesn't try to pull her hand back. She looks me dead in the eye. Her breathtakingly gray eyes are framed by the exact same shade as mine.

"I love you," I whisper, the tears finally fighting their way out.

"No, you made me think I loved you," she snarls, yanking her wrist back. "Weak you are."

Her blade swings through the air. Elly attempts to duck, but isn't quite fast enough—her hair gets caught. Primrose switches the sword for a knife.

"No!" I scream, a garbled, muffled sound. "Take me!"

"You are all going to die in due time," she murmurs, slinking over to put her face next to mine, her cheek pressed to my cheek. "You are going to be last."

I curl my hands into fists, closing my eyes. "Please, Primrose. Please."

Katniss is pressed against a tree, clutching an arrow. She drives it toward Primrose, who does a back handspring and lands on her feet, narrow body flashing through the air. "You cannot beat me. Accept your fate."

"Why—why are you playing with us?" Katniss breathes, blood everywhere: her arm, her face, her shoulder. "Just kill us. Just do it. You are nothing but machinery. You're not my sister. You're a robot. And if I'm going to die, I'll die fighting you!" She leaps forward, her fingernails exposed, raking Primrose's face. Primrose cries out, but narrows her eyes nonetheless. Her knife lies about ten feet away.

Katniss brings her leg out, knocking Primrose back, but not to the ground. She reaches for her sword, slashing at her sister. Katniss winces but lashes out again, gray eyes on gray eyes.

Primrose is breathing slightly hard. Katniss is a pure-born hunter, trained to notice the slightest of movements. The microchip doesn't seem to work as well on her own DNA, her own sister.

The two circle each other, Primrose occasionally stepping forward to get Katniss off-balance.

Finally Primrose trips Katniss. It seems to happen in slow-motion. Katniss falling, Primrose pinning her down.

"Now," Primrose says happily, blood gushing down her face, "I finally get what I came for."

The sword blade is driven right between Katniss's shoulderblades. She gives a long, guttering scream as Primrose twists the blade. Finally, face white, she goes limp.

Elly starts screaming her head off. I can't see a thing.

Suddenly Haymitch is there, pulling Primrose off of her sister. "Hold tight," he begins to say, but Primrose punches him in the face. His nose visibly breaks.

I run over, freeing myself from my reverie, and grab Primrose from behind. Her foot comes up, connecting with my stomach, but I don't let go. She still smells of wind, but now mostly salt and grass.

"How do we fix her?" I scream.

"We can't!" Haymitch bellows, through a mouthful of blood. "Not yet! We need Melissa! We have to get her back onto the ship and restrain her!"

"I will not allow you to!" Primrose calls, struggling against my arms.

"That microchip didn't put in much strength, did it?" I mutter to her, feeling sick. There is a small amount of black makeup around her eyes, highlighting their green.

"That is not my fault!" she says, her face reddening.

"You can be beaten."

"I can beat _you_," she whispers dangerously, and suddenly her mouth collides with mine.

I suddenly forget everything. She's here, she's kissing me. It feels just like normal. I have every millimeter of her memorized. The same movement of her hands, the same taste of her lips.

"Primrose, you really are still in there," I say, pulling apart.

A burning pain spreads through my body. The hilt of a knife protrudes from my chest. Somehow she managed to get us over to her knife. And she ran me through with it.

Everything becomes foggy. Primrose's new face is slowly getting hazy.

"I told you I could beat you," she says darkly, smiling.

Her words echo in my ears as I sink into the void.


	28. Chapter 28

_Don't Look Back—Chapter 28_

**A/N: The suspense, man…Enjoy Ch. 28!**

Chapter 28—Capture the Hag

Cassia's POV

"LET ME OUTSIDE!" I yell, pounding the sides of my wheelchair.

"We can't, she'll just slaughter you," T says shakily, peering out the window. "Oh god, Ian's down, Katniss is down…"

"I KNOW HOW TO FIX THIS!" I scream again. "I know how microchips work! Please! Let me try!"

"You can't, you're in a wheelchair!" T says, taking my wrists and staring me square in the face. "You can't."

"Yes—I—can! Primrose is my best friend. Ian, Katniss, E-Elly, Haymitch, they all need me!" My cheeks are warm and wet. "Please! Ian and Katniss are probably already dead, we're wasting time!"

T shakes his blond head furiously. "No, Cassia. You're my sister."

I hold his gaze, watery-eyed. "I am not."

T jerks backward, his face hurt. "I took you in. I helped you after your parents. You're not seriously saying that we aren't siblings."

"We're _not,_" I snarl, hoisting myself out of my chair. My legs wobble and pain shoots through me, but I clutch at a knife, my fingers wrapping around the hilt.

T turns away. "Fine. I'm leaving in fifteen minutes, with you on board or not, sissy." The doors slide open. My heart aches.

I stumble out of the craft. Primrose is too preoccupied with Elly to notice me.

"—you just killed your _b-boyfriend!_" Elly howls, mopping her eyes. "You have no idea how much you loved him, d-do you?"

"Love was a figment of my imagination—or rather, of yours! You know what you did, do you not?" Primrose advances on Elly with her bloodied sword. "You are a foolish girl. Admit what you did to me! You made me like this. You forced me to kill your friends. See them? Their bodies lie, rotting, just like your soul!"

"N-no, I didn't, we d-didn't—"

_She…killed Ian?_

My brain laces with hurt. When she wakes up, she's going to be…she's probably going to die.

_I have to stop this before she kills Elly._

A poem that Primrose told me once flits through my mind.

_the soul_

_ is silent_

_ but deadly_

_ the heart_

_ is hopeful_

_ but murderous_

_ the mind_

_ is in control_

_ but freezes_

_ and the blood_

_ is warm_

_ but runs cold_

I grip the knife more tightly.

The heart is hopeful, but murderous.

And Ian's blood is probably already running cold.

My mind buzzes. I make my final decision.

I jump forward, the pain in my legs so intense that I fall, which only makes them hurt more.

Primrose spins around just as I hack at her arm with the knife. She screams and grabs her forearm, scrabbling for her sword.

Elly snatches it, and, obviously not good with weapons, throws it like a javelin. It lands, hilt up, in the mud at Primrose's feet.

"Ha," Primrose says triumphantly, twirling the blade in her fingers. "You will regret that move."  
>She throws the knife. It embeds itself in Elly's chest. She slumps backward, on her knees, her lips parted.<p>

I feel nothing but cold.

Red washes my vision.

First I lost my parents. Then I lost Primrose. Then I lost Ian. Then I lost Katniss.

Now Elly.

A scream of rabid fury tears from my mouth. I grip Primrose's ankle and pull as hard as I can. Somehow we always find a way to outsmart the Capitol's technology.

She falls just as I did, but she never lets go of her sword. It slashes through the air, Elly's blood flicking my face. Pain tears through me like an iron fist.

Her sword has pierced my stomach.

The fire inside of me is so intense, so terrible, but my knife hacks at her arms.

Primrose screams in agony, little metal things flying everywhere. Seven, in count.

The pain in my body, now not just my legs, is white-hot.

I let waves wash over me.

Primrose's POV

I sit in a corner, a blanket wrapped around my shoulders, my arms bright red.

I am still trying to comprehend what happened.

I have not let anyone touch me. Haymitch just handed me a blanket. I stumbled over to the corner, dressed in bloodstained rags that used to be black gear.

My sister is gone.

Elly is gone.

Cassia is gone.

ian is gone.

My hands are stained with his blood. I clutch his ripped shirt in my fingertips. The four bodies have been taken to the cockpit.

The Capitol hijacked me.

They made me believe that everyone I loved hated me.

They made me believe that I hated them.

They made me kill everyone I loved.

They made me kill Ian.

My heart is beating an aching tune.

But I have to be strong.

I cease my shuddering in the corner and stand shakily. "H-Haymitch?" I call, my voice trembling.

He appears, his face full of a strange light.

Pity.

"Oh, Panem's darling," he says sadly, and wraps his arms around me. I start sobbing into his shoulder.

"They're g-gone," I cry, tears running down my face. "I k-killed them. I-I killed I-Ian."

"You didn't do those things. The Capitol did." Haymitch cups my chin in his hand. "You have to keep your head high, girlie. You can't show 'em that they got to you."

"They d-didn't get to m-me," I stammer, my hands curling into fists. "They d-destroyed me."

"So don't show 'em that."

"I wish I h-had never been r-reaped." My words are becoming slurred.

"We all do."

My eyes are full of water.

"I'm sorry, Primrose," he says sorrowfully, painfully.

I have no one but my mother, Effie, and Haymitch.

_no one._

I take a deep breath as the aircraft jolts upward and we rise into the air. T is flying. I almost forgot about him.

I walk shakily to the cockpit.

His head is adorned with black headphones as he says words into a microphone.

I sit in the copilot's chair next to him and slip on earphones of my own. He turns to face me. He has obviously been crying. I don't blame him. He lost Cassia, I lost Cassia. She's gone.

Strange radio waves reach my ears. T stands, holding out his hand. I push it away and hug him tightly, my arms around his neck.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper, eyes closed tightly.

"I'm the one who should be sorry," T says, his arms strong around me. "You've been through so much."

I pull away and look him dead in the eyes. There are tear streaks on his cheeks. "You know if Cassia and I were sisters, that makes you my brother."

His lips part slightly, and finally his face breaks into a smile, a real smile. "I'll be your brother," T says. "Do me a favor, okay?"

I nod.

"Don't call me T. Call me Thomas. I…she used to call me that. She made that up." He rubs his arms. "I can't believe she's gone."

Hot, hot tears burn my eyes. I wipe them away. "I did that."

"No. You didn't." Thomas puts a hand on my back. "Haymitch!" he calls. "HAYMITCH!"

"Yeah?" Haymitch says, appearing. His shirt is bloody and he holds Katniss's bow.

"Can you fly this? I'm going to show Primrose something."

Haymitch nods. He turns his head and thrusts the bow at me. "Take it. She'd want you to have it."

The bow is a beautiful thing, crafted by my dad. Made of nice, smooth wood. There are no bumps or cracks. The string is taut. It is still warm to the touch, and not a speck of blood is visible.

I tighten my grip on it until my knuckles are white.

"Thank you."

"And…" Haymitch holds something else, too.

My district token.

The primrose pin given to me by Josephine.

_"Prim, you're going to win. I know you can. Somehow you'll make it. Just like your sister. I want you to know you're the best model ever and just so nice and my best friend." She places something in my hand. "It's your district token."_

_ It's not a mockingjay. It's not water or anything like that._

_ It's a pin, though. And it's a pin of a primrose._

_ I love it. A single tear splashes its silver surface. I wipe the rest away and embrace her, hugging her tightly._

_ "I'm rooting for you, Wave," she says before dissolving into sobs._

The silver pin given to me so, so long ago, before Ian kissed me for the first time, before Quinn became a star, before I killed Gregg, before I lost my innocence…

"He—ahem—he was wearing it."

My heart is crushed into a million, billion tiny little pieces. "Thank you so much, Haymitch."

Thomas takes my hand gently and squeezes it. This aircraft is much smaller, though still very large. He pulls me into a room with chairs and computers in it.

A line of eleven people stand, saluting me.

"I'd like you to meet our crew: Jonah, Fiona, Raegan, Lily, Emily, Kendall, Nathan, Josh, Lauren, Maddie, and Sophia."

Jonah gives me a nod; Fiona, Raegan, Lily, Emily, and Kendall all smile sadly and wave; Lauren, Maddie, and Sophia flash me genuine smiles; Maddie gives a curtsey; and Nathan and Josh wink at me.

These people all worked for me. Gratitude and loyalty well up in my chest.

"Thank you all so much for helping me," I say, shaking hands with each of them. Emily smiles.

"It is an honor to help you, Primrose," she says, bowing.

"You don't need to do that. I'm one of you." Kendall grins and throws back her dark hair.

"The captain of our mission, Thomas," Jonah says, "was flawless."

"You were the captain?" I ask my brother.

Thomas shrugs, his eyes shimmering.

"That's great!"

"Thanks." My brother puts an arm around me. "Well, we just stopped by to say hello and so that Primrose could meet you. Thanks again for everything."

The crew members all bow and applaud as we exit.

"That was really cool," I say, looking up at Thomas. "Is that all you wanted to show me?"

"Yes. Did you like it?"

"Very much."

My arms are still a rusty red, crusted with dry blood. My brother looks down and does a double take. "Primrose!" he gasps, taking my hands gingerly and turning them palm-up so he can examine my forearms. "What happened?"

"Cassia…she cut the microchips out of my skin. She saved me and sacrificed her…self." My breath hitches.

_Quinn Mallory did the exact same thing._

"What? Does it hurt?"

I shake my head, swallowing the lump in my throat. "I'm sorry."

"No, don't be. Grief…I'm dealing with the same thing." Thomas hugs me. "You know what? Call me whatever you like."

I blink tears out of my eyes. "Can I call you Oma?"

My brother laughs and twirls a lock of my hair around his finger. Since the microchip was taken out I have slowly been returning to my normal appearance. The only thing that has yet to change is my hair. It is still shorter and darker than it was before the microchip. "You fascinate me. Even when you're grieving you're cracking jokes."

I shrug. My heart still feels like a black hole, my stomach like a weight. It has only been near a day and I am already dying.

"I kind of want to die, but I don't think I'll attempt suicide. Something tells me this time I try I might succeed." I regret the words as soon as I say them. Thomas goes pale.

"What?" he asks.

"Well…it was after Ian had been taken away. I was hanging out with the wrong crowd, having issues with my family, slipping in school, etc. I just didn't want to live. I jumped into the Dapper Cardinal River and tried to drown but Katniss saw me and pulled me out. I was hospitalized." I tuck my hair nervously behind my ears. "It's funny, though: I probably would have had to walk to Ten and walk back with him if I hadn't tried to die. But Katniss discovered my plans for the walking thing and decided to help me."

"Primrose," my brother says, rubbing my shoulder. "I'm—"

"Do _not_ say you're sorry. I would've never gotten to Ian otherwise."

_Ian. _His name hits me like a thousand bricks. I feel dizzy with loss.

"ATTENTION ALL CREW MEMBERS. REPORT TO COCKPIT IMMEDIATELY. WE HAVE CAPTURED MELISSA REYNOLDS."

Ian's POV

_I see gold. _

_ Gold, everywhere, shimmering in the light._

_ Primrose walks from the mist that surrounds me. Her smile is real and right, plus now she looks normal._

_ "Ian," she says, her voice full of adoration and love. She is dressed in a white gown that flows out behind her, feathers in her hair. Primrose looks like an angel. "You've done so well."_

_ "Have I?" I ask._

_ She smiles and nods, her beauty so breathtaking. "You loved me so much."_

_ "I did. I still do." I step closer to her. "This is heaven?" I ask, peering into the mist. _

_ Primrose shakes her head, the feathers staying perfectly in place. "This is the midpoint between paradise and the netherworld. It is a happy, yet sad place. You see me, but you cannot touch me. I am merely an image."_

_ "You're not dead?" I ask, feeling both relieved and terribly sorry at the same time. "You have to be going insane with guilt that you shouldn't be insane with, then."_

_ "I am. Down there, I am."_

_ Suddenly I can see the real Primrose, walking with Thomas to the cockpit. She looks so sad. On her chest is the pin I was wearing, in her hands in the shirt I was wearing. There is blood on her arms and tears on her cheeks. Shadows under her eyes, red all over her ragged clothing._

_ "Please let me back down there," I beg, clasping my hands._

_ "I have no power to do that, Ian." Suddenly three figures walk out from all sides of Primrose._

_ Cassia, Elly, and Katniss._

_ They are all gazing at me, lips parted._

_ "Ian?" they all ask, and I can touch all of them. We wrap our arms around each other and stand in a cluster of four. _

_ "Have you seen Primrose?" Katniss asks, her voice full of worry._

_ "She's right there," I say, gesturing to Primrose._

_ Katniss narrows her eyes, looking for the girl right in front of her. "Where?"_

_ "They cannot see, hear, or touch me, Ian," Primrose says sadly. "I am the Primrose that you think of. I am the Primrose that darts around your brain, keeping you on your toes, making sure that you remember me constantly." She kisses my cheeks, and I feel a lingering sensation of warmth even though I felt no physical contact. "I must go. But do not worry. You are happy here, are you not?"_

_ "No, I can't be, not without you," I say, scrabbling for her hand. Mine passes right through hers._

_ "You will learn to be, eventually. But soon enough Primrose will come. I fear she may not last much longer without you."_

_ And with that, Primrose explodes into golden dust._

Prim's POV

"Why did you do this to me?" I cry, holding a knife tip to Melissa's throat.

"I did it on Ignoti Imperium's orders," she says weakly, blood and dirt staining her white blazer.

"You were caught sneaking around to monitor her progress. Once you saw that she was fallen, you rushed to see if Ian Reseda, Katniss Everdeen, Cassia James, and Eleanor Opal were truly dead. Once you noticed they were, you attempted to hurry back into the woods, but you saw Haymitch Abernathy coming and decided to get on board our aircraft, thinking you would be home free back at Twelve and you'd just fly out," my brother says, reading from a piece of paper.

I tighten my grip on the knife, following the orders of Haymitch. Even though Melissa is bound by her wrists, forearms, knees, and ankles, we have no clue what she could do.

"And now, Primrose Jo Everdeen has five requests."

"I request that you revive the fallen: Ian Reseda, Katniss Everdeen, Cassia James, and Eleanor Opal with one of your microchips."

"That is impossible," Melissa gasps, her body shaking. "No microchip of mine could do that—"

"I request that as you are working on these microchips, you take the Truth Elixir to prove that you do no wrong to the Revival Chips."

"I cannot make a chip that powerful—"

"I request that you are thrown into prison for the rest of your life on account of CONTROLLING ANOTHER HUMAN BEING."

"I will gladly—"

"I request that you take a Memory Elixir and forget that you were held hostage by the Rebels."

"Yes, of course I will—"

"And for my final request, I request that you revive Ian Reseda last of all."

Melissa swallows and nods, her eyes streaming. "I will try my hardest. I am deeply sorry for what I did to you, Primrose," she says, pleading. "Have mercy on me."

I lift my chin and turn away, saying nothing. "Do you swear on Panem that you will follow each of these requests to the best of your abilities?"

"Yes, I swear." Her hair is matted with blood, her feet bare and bruised. The pencil skirt she had been wearing has been torn to shreds, cutting off at mid-thigh range. Bruises and slashes line her legs.

"We were forced to use violence upon violence. She had a gun." My brother shoots me an apologetic look.

"If you were forced, you were forced," I say coldly, surveying Melissa Reynolds with a fiery, impossible burning passion of HATE. "You do realize that your actions may require the death penalty."

For the first time, Melissa smiles. It is cruel smile, the one that she showed me when I first met her. "District Twelve has no authority over the Capitol. I could single-handedly invade your district and burn it to the ground."

"Is that so?" I say softly. I touch Melissa's forehead with my finger. She flinches instinctively. "You seem to be frightened of me. How could you, then, reduce Twelve to rubble? We may be poor, and we may be weak, but we are _nothing_," I whisper dangerously, "if not resourceful."

Melissa presses her lips together. "You are lucky that I am giving you the option of death. If I were the Capitol, I would break every bone in your body, drown you, cut you into tiny pieces, and toss you into an active volcano." I literally mean every word.

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"You will begin your construction straightaway." Thomas snaps his fingers, and her binds are instantly undone by Haymitch. "Go."

A table with tools and materials shoots up from a capsule in the ship. Melissa steadies her hands and gives me a vicious look. I tap my arms. They still have not been washed off. I refused treatment. I can't bear to see the imprints of the microchips still plated into my skin.

She swallows and starts building.

"How long do you expect this to take?" I ask sharply.

"A very long while. At least three weeks. And it has a high chance of not working."

"You will work until the microchip works!" I yell, curling my hands into fists.

_The next three weeks are going to be torture._


	29. Chapter 29

_Don't Look Back—Chapter 29_

**A/N: Such sadness, very cry, much blood…**

**Enjoy Ch. 29!**

Chapter 29—Primrose Appears

Prim's POV

_Three days later_

The doors slide open. I step off of the aircraft and into the warm Twelve air. March is slowly slipping away. It looks like the summer is going to be hot.

Haymitch, Thomas, and I are at the head of the line, Jonah and Josh holding Melissa by the arms behind us, and the rest of the crew bringing up the rear. We rush past the Centre and into the Letter, heads high. My arms are pinpointed with hexagonal shapes.

"I give you the revived Primrose Everdeen!" Thomas yells.

The crowd of Rebels who came to the meeting cheer.

"As you may now know, we lost four innocents to the Capitol's wrath," I say, my voice choked off. "My sister, Katniss Everdeen, my two best friends, Cassia James and Eleanor Opal, and my love, Ian Reseda." The ones who did not know gasp in surprise, the ones who did hang their heads in sorrow. "We are gathered here today in the Letter to bring news of developments, however." I prod Melissa in the back. She straightens.

"I am currently working on a microchip that can revive maimed organs," she announces. "I am also working on forging your trust. I no longer wish to be a Capitolite."

Thomas rolls his eyes in disgust. "As if we would work with you."

"Did I not just state that I am forging it?" Melissa says, her eyes sharp. "Ignorance is bliss, is it not?"

I touch the cuts on my arms absentmindedly. "You were talking about your advancements on the Revival Chip."

"Ah, yes. I am about a quarter of the way into discovering how to revive bodies. It is a matter of repairing the maimed organs and making them to work again. Very complicated. The cells are especially difficult—"

"Now, Melissa, we don't want you giving away all the secrets," I hiss under my breath.

"Yes. Well."

"We have come to take into account of your opinion!" I call to the crowd, raising a fist. They yell and scream and clap their hands. "Shall we dispose of Melissa Reynolds after she creates the microchip, or shall she be thrown in the prisons of Twelve?"

"All in favor of the death penalty raise your hands!" Haymitch jeers.

Almost everyone sends a fist skyward. Melissa bows her head.

"Thank you for your vote!" Thomas calls.

We take Melissa by the arms and exit, the meeting over as soon as it started. As we walk, wild howls and shrieks follow us out. "REBELLION! REBELLION! REBELLION!"

"I assumed as much," Melissa says sadly.

"You should've," I say coldly, dropping the formality. "After what you did to me and my life and everyone I loved."

"I am sorry, Primrose." Her eyelashes are strung with water droplets. It's raining. "I deserve to die, and that is why I will finish the microchip and let you take my life just as you did your sister, your friends, your love…"

A weight presses on my stomach, harder than usual. _She's just playing with you, _I try to think.

"Stop messing with my sister," Thomas snaps, tightening his hold on Melissa. Her teeth dig into her lip. She is determined not to give into pain. "You're a despicable insect."

"Thank you, I try. However, I will complete the chip. I would like to see how amazing I am at my job." Her lips curl. "The stumbling block is, will I give it to you?"

"Yes, you will," I say, teeth gritted. "If you don't, we'll—"

"Kill me? But weren't you going to already?"

I narrow my eyes. She's too clever.

"I will not sink to Capitolite standards, but we will be forced to kill you. I only beg of you to give me the microchip."

"Or what?"

I sigh. "C'mon out."

Maureen Hanker appears from the shadows. Melissa goes white. Maureen smiles and waves cruelly at her sister.

"Where is your husband?" I say abruptly to Melissa.

"My what?"

"Your last name is Reynolds, her last name is Hanker. You claim you are siblings."

"Our parents divorced. I am the eldest child. Maureen is the middle child. The smallest daughter, Monica, who would be about sixteen, now lives with our mother in the Capitol." Melissa swallows. For the first time she is nervous.

Maureen runs her fingers along her sister's cheekbones, making Melissa flush. It's the exact same gesture, only reversed, from when Melissa made me believe I hated Maureen.

"Maurey," Melissa says. "Maurey, I am so sorry, I made you a monster, I am so sorry—"

Maureen blows air out of her mouth. She holds up her pinkies and crosses them, making an X. Melissa's cheeks flush further. "No, you would not, you cannot," she says quietly to Maureen.

"She can choose to get rid of you however she likes. But you've got to wait till she finishes the microchips."

Maureen nods curtly, stepping back.

"Melissa. Please get back to work."

Melissa nods. "I shall—I shall give you the chip. To prove I am on your side. If you choose to murder me, so be it. But I am your ally. You may not want to kill me. I could be very valuable."

I swallow burning words of hate and distrust. "Thank you," I say simply, and turn on my heel.

My brother follows me out, looking worried. "We can't trust her!" he says indignantly, pressing a hand to my back. "She's a Capitolite. She's dangerous."

"But she's my only hope," I say, both quietly and fiercely at the same time. "She's the only way…she's the only chance Ian's got." My heart gives a sickening leap at the sound of his name.

His one-syllable name, three letters, two vowels. I A N. Ian. E-an. Ian.

My name has two syllables, eight letters, two vowels. E. Primrose. Pr-im-ro-z. Primrose.

Katniss. Two syllables. Seven letters, two vowels. S. Katniss. C-at-nes. Katniss.

Elly. One syllable. Four letters, one vowel. E L L Y. Elly. El-le. Elly. Or Eleanor. Three syllables. Seven letters, four vowels. R. Eleanor. El-uh-nor. Eleanor.

Cassia. One syllable. Six letters, three vowels. A. Cassia. Cas-se-uh. Cassia.

The fallen.

I turn toward Thomas.

Thomas. Two syllables. Six letters, two vowels. S. Thomas. Tom-as. Thomas.

My mind is racing, spelling names and breaking them down, thinking of rhymes and synonyms. I think of them backwards, in anagrams, in everyday speech, how they sound coming out of my mouth.

Especially his name.

"Are you okay?" Thomas asks gently, his hand now on the small of my back, applying the tiniest bit of pressure.

I shake my head slightly, rubbing my temple. "I'm fine. Just thinking."

"That's all you ever do." He brushes a lock of my hair off my forehead. His hand is on my cheek. "You feel warm."

"Wonder why," I say, the smallest drop of sarcasm applied.

"You feel alright?"

"I feel _fine,_" I say again, as his hands touch my chest. Feeling my heartbeat. It begins beating slightly faster because the feeling is so foreign. It feels really weird, his hands on my chest.

"Sorry. Can't find a pulse to save my life," he says, slightly breathless. "Apologies. Asthma." He moves his hands around on my chest. "Ah. There it is."

_Hands off,_ I want to think, but he's my honorary brother. He wouldn't do anything.

Thomas frowns. "Your heart rate is really high. You might want to talk to your mom. Possible fever." He removes his hands, albeit slowly. I nod, face warm.

"Bye, Thomas," I call.

"Bye," he replies, and I walk away, down the street to my house in VV.

Cassia's POV

"_But why?" I say, frustrated. "Why are we here, in 'the place between dimensions'? It makes no sense. Why not just get to paradise?"_

_ "I don't know, don't ask me," Ian says, and I can tell he's thinking of Primrose._

_ Suddenly I see her, smiling tiredly at me, her appearance regular, her eyes bright as can be. "Hey, Cass."_

_ "Primrose!" I exclaim, rushing forward to hug her tightly. I pass right through her, my skin warming as I go._

_ "I'm just a hologram—that's not even the right word, but I'm not real. I'm the Primrose you think of."_

_ "So you're her, but you're not."_

_ "Yeah. It's confusing." She dismisses it with a wave of her hand. "I." She smiles and brushes her bangs out of her hands. "To answer your earlier question, you're here simply because you wish to be."_

_ I stare at her, confused. "But I don't want to be here."_

_ "I think you do. You all realize that if you go to the paradise that you're definitely going to go to, there's not a chance you'll see the real me ever again."_

_ Biting my lip, I only look at her. She wears a dress made out of fire, flames snapping in the air. Her hair is interwoven with red-hot coals, but she doesn't burn. She's barefoot, but smoke wraps around her ankles like vines. She looks like a princess._

_ "Do you like it?" she asks, catching my eyes. _

_ "Yeah, a lot."_

_ She tilts her head and looks at me. "Hmm." She winks one long-lashed eye._

_ I look down and gasp in surprise. I'm wearing a shirt made purely out of blossoms, all different shades of green. My dark hair tumbles down my back in delicate half-curls, my hair woven with more flowers, casually messy. My skirt is made out of spring-green leaves. My legs are patterned with black tattoos, of all different kinds of flowers. I wear black sneakers, comfortably scruffy. _

_ "You're so flowery. You smell really nice." Primrose smiles, and it feels so natural. _

_ "Please don't go," I beg. _

_ "Paradise's restrictions," she says with a saddening shrug. "I'll tell you something, though: don't try and look at the real me 24/7."_

_ I lie to her. "Okay."_

_ "Okay. I've gotta go appear to Katniss. See you, Cass." She smiles so brightly at me. "I love you."_

_ "I love you too," I say, but she is gone, leaving only a small whirl of fire in her place. I touch it once with my finger lightly, and it transforms into a flower, laying itself against my palm. I curl my fingers around it carefully and walk off, wiping at tears that I wish I could undo._

Katniss's POV

"_She's going to come to you," Cassia says. She looks amazing, like she's been showered in leaves and flowers. "I know it. It's you next."_

_ "She made you like this?"_

_ "She's really just the Primrose we think of when we picture her. I saw her as an angel. Cassia saw her as a warrior. I don't know what you'll see her as, or Elly." Ian bites his lip, visibly shaken. His eyes are always blank. I can tell he sees her in real life and is clearly struggling._

_ I draw my arm around him and pull him close. His tears soak through my black shirt. We all are wearing different things._

_ Cassia, obviously, wears a meadow on herself._

_ I wear a comfortable black hunting shirt and my father's leather hunting jacket, soft dark green pants and black hunting boots. My hair is pulled back into a silky braid. _

_ Ian wears a shirt with a rose on it and jeans with scruffy black sneakers like Cassia's. The rose is surrounded by whirls and spirals, a shade lighter gray than the shirt. It looks like it's been covered in hieroglyphics. _

_ Elly wears a flouncy black skirt covered in shimmering white dots with a white shirt. Her hair, tumbled and windblown, cascades down her back. She wears dark blue ankle boots._

_ "She'll come to you if you think about her enough," Cassia says thoughtfully, scrunching her nose and breaking through my observations. "Go off and think. Hard."_

_ I nod and turn, breaking into a sprint. I run until I can't see the others anymore. Then, panting, I sit down on the ground and think._

_ I remember one time Prim wanted me to play hide-and-seek with her. Naturally, I obliged. She was about two or three. I turned around and counted._

_ "Kat-nish! You'we suppost'uh count to thiwty!"_

_ I sighed. "Fine, Prim. I'll count to thirty." I turned back around and recounted, this time all the way to thirty. I even went up to thirty-five, secretly, before calling, "I'm coming to find you, Prim!"_

_ Little giggles emitted from a bush. Branches rustle. I roll my eyes, smiling, and pretend not to hear. _

_ "Hmm, is she behind this tree?" I asked loudly and obviously. More laughter from the bush. "Oh, no, guess not. Maybe she's behind these rocks…oh, darn it!" Extremely loud giggles. "Maybe the bush…"_

_ "No! No!" Prim cried as I pulled away the branches. "Aww, Kat-nish. You wuined it."_

_ "Ruined what?"_

_ "I was gonna give you these fowers. But you wuined the suhprise." Prim's little baby hands outstretched and she handed me a bundle of white-yellow flowers. Lilies. _

_ "Aww, thanks, Prim," I said, scooping her into my arms. "Daddy's gonna be home soon. Let's pick some more, for him. Okay?"_

_ "Okay." She waddled off to find more lilies. _

_ "Sweet memories," a soft, sad voice says behind me._

_ It's Prim._

_ Prim, in her shirt that won't stay tucked, forming the duck tail. Prim, in her skirt that's too long. Prim, in the worn and ripped old shoes that used to be our mother's._

_ Prim, innocent and careful, on the day of the reaping._

_ My lips start to form her name. She walks over silently and smiles. "I miss you, Kat-nish."_

_ "Oh, ha ha," I say sarcastically, and she laughs. _

_ "I don't remember much about my childhood—only that I learned to walk and talk really fast."_

_ I remember. You grow up fast in Twelve, or don't grow up at all. "You're in your reaping outfit," I whisper._

_ "Simply how you remember me best. Tell me, do you wish I was more innocent?"_

_ "Yeah," I blurt out. _

_ "Really?" She raises her eyebrows. She never had this kind of confidence before. "Hmm."_

_ "Well—I like you how you are, more devilish and warrior-like, but…I'm afraid of losing you. I lost Father and Gale and now you."_

_ "It's sort of like I'm the one that died, isn't it?" she says. I'm surprised by her comment. "You all want me up here. But I'm not here. It's like I'm dead."_

_ "We're all suffering up here. We don't want to be here any longer."_

_ "But you do, that's the thing. You do."_

_ "No, we don't! Just please let us go already."_

_ Prim smiles and shakes her head. "Can't do that. Only you guys can."_

_ I frown, frustrated. "Just so you know," I say peevishly, "you really should change. Those clothes are so filthy."_

_ Prim looks down. "Yeah, you're right." She pinches her shirt and it transforms into water. Actual water, with the same texture and probably feel as water. But it doesn't slide off of her body. It's a rich blue that you can't see a thing out of. Her hair is piled on top of her head, her cheeks full of color and her smile bright._

_ "How—?"_

_ "It's called will. I've got the power of paradise on my side, chick." _

_ "I'm no chick. You're the Little Duck here."_

_ She grins and cups her hands. A tiny chick is nestled in them, peeping. "I was talking to the actual chick."_

_ "Liar! Oh my god, you liar!" We both grin and collapse into laughter. This is Prim. This is the Prim I know and love so dearly. This is the Prim I remember best of all._

_ "You could use a change too, y'know."_

_ I back up, hands in the air. "No please."_

_ "Shut up and let me work." She tilts her head, squinting one eye, biting her lip thoughtfully. "Oh, perfect." She smiles._

_ I take a look. I'm wearing a dress made out of actual smoke. It curls on the ground behind and in front of me. It's thick and smells like it should but it has no effect on my breathing or my brain. It's like pure smoke. My hair falls out of its braid for the first time in a long time, falling down my back. My face is plain and I am barefoot. Stripped down to nothing but smoke._

_ "'You are dust, and unto dust you shall return,'" Prim says, admiring her work. "Wowza. You look fantastic."_

_ "I mean—how did you do that?"_

_ "Will, big sissy. You'll learn to use it right eventually." She shrugs, her eyes suddenly violently sad. "I've gotta go. Elly's next on my list. Gotta prep for my opening line." She wiggles her fingers, the chick waddling around on the ground. I gaze at it for a moment. _

_ "Please don't leave," I say finally._

_ "Oh, you'll see me soon enough," she says conversationally. "I love you, Kat-nish."_

_ "I love you too, Little Duck."_

_ She smiles and disappears, leaving the salty scent of sea air behind her._

_ I feel a painful ache in my body. The chick is still on the ground, near my foot. I nudge it once and it topples over adorable. Smiling to myself, I pick it up and hold it gently, walking back toward my friends._

Ian's POV

"_She's coming for you, Elly," Katniss says, a chick on her shoulder. _

_ "Where'd you get the bird?" I ask. My cheeks still tingle from her touch._

_ "Prim." Her voice is slightly choked. "And Cassia got a fire-flower-thing. What'd you get? We all got something."_

_ "I got a kiss," I say unblushingly. Katniss throws up her hands, almost dropping the creature._

_ "WELL, WHAT DID WE EXPECT?" she shouts, and we all laugh together. "Seriously, though. She saved the best for you."_

_ I smile. I guess she did._

Elly's POV

_I'm already thinking of her. Up here, in the blank world of nothing but a sturdy, cool ground and a misty, swirling white sky, it's not hard to block everything out. _

_ Everyone looks fantastic. Ian, casually handsome; Katniss, in her smoke dress._

_ And Cassia._

_ She looks so beautiful, her skin clear and white and she's strong again and she looks amazing in her leaf dress. I want to grab her and hold her. _

_ Some might say that the three-year gap is a tad harsh. But I'm eighteen now. Cassia's twenty-one. I really don't care._

_ "Cassi," I say to her, touching her shoulder, breaking my Primrose thoughts. She is observing the fire cupped in her palm, her cheeks flushed._

_ "Hi," she says without breaking her gaze._

_ "I need to talk to you."_

_ "No. You need to talk to Primrose first." She tears her eyes from the flower and looks at me. She looks windblown and fiery._

_ I look right at her, look right into her gray eyes, and kiss her._

_ She gasps in surprise, but I feel her smile against my lips. I smile back. _

_ "God." I can feel Katniss grin. "You two are gross."_

_ I draw away from her. Ian is looking away, tears running down his cheeks. I'd forgotten how fragile he is._

_ "Ian," I say quietly._

_ He turns and runs away._

Ian's POV

_I need her so badly._

_ "Primrose!" I scream, my vision blurry. _

_ She's there, still in her white dress. Her hair is falling down her shoulders, so much concern on her face. _

_ "Oh, Ian," she says in a hushed tone. _

_ She does nothing but point._

_ I stare down at the ground below me as it becomes transparent. Primrose is with a woman. T stands a little way away from her. The woman is working on something. Primrose's brow is furrowed in frustration. Her lips move. She looks exhausted. Shadows under her eyes, dirty clothing, streaked with grime. She looks beautiful, still, to me._

_ "I miss you," I say quietly. "I need you."_

_ "I wish I could help you. I can't, Ian. I can't let you waste away staring at me. I'm not real. I'm a figment of your imagination. Do you understand?"_

_ "Yes, but you're still you."_

_ She shakes her head. "I'm not." _

_ She pulls a feather from her hair. "Take this." And she pulls me toward her and kisses me._

_ I feel it. I feel her hands and her body and her hair. Everything is so familiar. My hands around her waist, on her shoulderblades, in her hair. Her hands on my back, my neck, my hair. Everything feels warm. Everything is perfect for a millimoment. _

_ And then she pulls apart. "I'm so sorry," she says, looking at her feet. "Now you're going to waste away even more."_

_ I shake my head._

_ "Even if I have to stay here a million years, I'll be right here. Your feather will be in my hands, wasted away, but I won't be. I promise. I know you're in my head. That's fine by me. In my head is better than not here. I'll wait. I'll wait forever. I'll wait for as long as it takes you to actually be here. And when you come, I'm going to pick you up and spin you around and hold you closer than I ever did before because now I realize what it's like to lose someone. Maybe I'll have to go sometime. But I will fight with every cell in my body, every bit of life that's left in me, until you come. Because if I ever leave you, even to go to paradise, I'll never be happy. I just want you. If I was homeless and sick and had no money whatsoever, I'd be the happiest person on earth if I had you. When I see you again, whether it's in three million years or in a few minutes, I'm going to become the happiest person on earth. I didn't think it was possible to love someone this much. But guess what. I just poured out my heart and soul to an image of the girl I will love until the universe is long gone and the sun has swallowed everything up and exploded. I love you."_

_ Her face breaks into a smile as she wipes away tears. "I will make sure that she hears this." She points to the Primrose on earth. "Just remember something."_

_ I nod._

_ "She'll always love you, too."_


	30. Chapter 30

_Don't Look Back—Chapter 30_

**A/N: Dudes, we're at thirty chapters! Can you believe this? This story is just amazing. I love you all. Thank you so much for all of your support. I hope we can make it to forty chapters, maybe forty-five, maybe even fifty. **

** I'm still in a sort of shock. Thirty chapters are completely insane. I thought this would be another **_**Panem's Darling,**_** at eleven chapters. But no. Thirty.**

** Please, enjoy the thirtieth installment of my story.**

Chapter 30—T's Change

Prim's POV

_Two weeks later_

Ian, Cassia, Katniss, and Elly have been dead for over two weeks now, and things are slowly unraveling inside of me.

Melissa has begun the trial and error. I've insisted that we take care of her. If she learns to trust me and the rest of us, I'll know for sure she'll give me that microchip. So far she's been well fed, bathed, exercised, and given things to do every day.

I do make sure that she works almost ten hours a day, though. I can't stand to see her doing anything but working on the microchip.

I slip through the sliding doors to our laboratory. All of the things she began working on while we were on the ship have been moved to our new top-secret location—the basement under our old house in the Seam. The Peacekeepers have been ordered under special Capitol instructions—hacked by Beetee and given false emails—to go nowhere near the house.

The laboratory, nicknamed by yours truly ("The Snowglobe"), is bright white and spherical. Fluorescent lights wink at me as I enter. The bluish tile floor is polished to perfection. A singular table takes up half of the room. It is full of materials: wires, screwdrivers, papers, pens, and, most importantly, Melissa.

Her face is flushed, her hair still sleek and bouncy. She wears a gray coal miner's shirt but still has on expensive black pants and shoes. The shirt has been given a collar. I feel like puking.

"Hello," I say tonelessly to Melissa, putting on my face that's especially reserved for her.

"Good morning, dear girl," she says without looking up. She twists a part of the microchip with her screwdriver. "No progress so far. I have only learned that this wire does not work in it."

"Apologies," I say in a bored voice, leaning my elbow on the table and admiring my fingers. I try to hide my anger and fear. No progress? _No progress?_ She's a genius and she's made zero progress. I bite back a yell. "Please attempt to actually do this, Miss C—"

"Primrose!" T calls. I groan internally. At first, he was really sweet and acted protective and brotherly, but now he's all handsy and wants to be alone and it makes me feel sick, sicker than a coal miner's shirt with a collar on it.

"T." I smile, hoping it doesn't look too much like a toothache.

He wraps an arm around me. I gently take it off, pretending to fix my shirt. "How's old Melly doing?"

"Do you wish to lose a limb?" Melissa asks suddenly.

"No, thanks."

"Then do not call me Melly."

I have to smile.

"So, Melissa, I brought you breakfast," I say, pointing to a brown paper bag sitting on one of the lab tables. "A blueberry muffin, a peach yogurt cup, three strips of bacon, bottled water, and some granola to sprinkle on your yogurt."

"Oh, thank you," she says tiredly, immediately snatching the bag and sitting down to eat.

I sit across from her, pulling out my own breakfast. Apple cinnamon muffin, orange juice, two mini sausages, a blackberry yogurt cup with granola. It's the same pattern: grain, dairy, hydration, protein, and meat. I just don't like peaches. And I like oranges.

"Melissa, listen," I say in a low voice as T examines the chip so far. "If you really desire to become a Rebel, then we'll put you through some tests, make sure you're not lying, etc., etc. If you pass, then you can transform yourself."

Her eyes light up and she smiles, nodding. "That would be positively lovely. Thank you for giving me a chance."

"Ah, not a problem. Just remember: we've got the best lie detectors in Panem. We've got the injection, the syrup, even the good ol' Lie Boxes. You can't sneak past us."

She touches my hand. "I would not dream of it."

Her touch is strange, like I'm getting pins and needles in my hand. It feels wrong. This is the woman who killed Ian. Why am I giving her a chance? She killed my sister. Why should she side with me? She threw a knife at Elly. What is wrong with me? She cut Cassia's stomach off, practically. Why am I giving her a chance?

Because she's valuable. If she can create microchips to revive the dead, then she could get some of our best generals back on their feet. We could win with her intelligence. We just need her cooperation. And, most of all, her trust. We need her to trust us and we need to trust her. We need to make sure she won't just laugh in our faces and kill all of us without using the microchip.

"I am sorry, you do realize that," Melissa says sharply. "I tire of telling you."

I spoon some yogurt into my mouth. "I don't believe you and I won't till we get the lie detectors working on you."

She looks down sadly at her muffin. "Does the old cliché 'people change' not register here?"

I shrug around a mouthful of granola. "Nope."

"Oh."

We eat in silence, Melissa biting into her muffin while I pinch pieces away from mine. As I drain the last dregs of my juice Haymitch enters, Effie Trinket tottering behind him.

_"Effie!"_ I cry, running toward her and engulfing her in a hug that nearly knocks her off her heels.

"Primrose," she says kindly, patting my shoulder. "You look beautiful."

"Not as you do," I say, smiling. Her violent purple dress is covered in vines, flowers, and lily pads. It looks like she walked straight out of a jungle. "How are you? Where have you been? Haymitch said you were spying on the Capitol."

She nods. "I was. My mission is over. I discovered next to nothing. All of their plans are completely top-secret. They have no idea that the Avox Maureen Hanker is missing, but Melissa Reynolds's disappearance has been on the news several times. They said she died in a raid, but I am positive that Cornelius knows she has been captured. We may have only weeks until he strikes."

"We districts Twelve, Ten, and Eleven rallied behind us," Haymitch says, drawing his eyes away from Effie. "We are ready to fight."

My mouth hangs open. "You've been developing all of this and haven't told me?"

"You've been…busy, dear," Effie says, smoothing down my hair. The affection is noticed and welcomed by me. I've needed this for awhile now. I touch her shoulder and smile at her.

"Well, that's a relief. Now we're not just a band of people against the world." I turn to Melissa. "How quickly can you finish the chip?"

She shakes her head. "Not soon enough. If the Capitol strikes, before this month is over, we will have to fight without my Revival." She stands, walking over to the sink and running her hands under the water. "I must get back to work."

And so she does.

Effie gently takes me by the hand and brings me outside. The warm, mid-May air makes my head clear. Clouds puff across the sky, birds chirping as they fly across it.

"I am so sorry about what happened, Primrose," she says sadly, Haymitch looking awkward as he enters behind her.

"Me too."

Every time I think of myself killing them, the guilt is so intense my head pounds.

"Can we…not talk about it?" I ask quietly.

Effie nods and turns back, obviously embarrassed. I know she wanted to speak to me about it, be comforting. But I really can't do that right now. I can't talk about it. I keep shoving it into a corner of my mind, one that I visit at night, in my dreams.

We walk back into the Snowglobe and sit, drinking some sweet, fizzy lemon beverage that tickles my throat. Effie calls it _soude naturelle d'agrumes_, whatever that means. Effie tells me all about what she saw in the Capitol, while Haymitch cracks lame jokes about what she says. They keep me laughing, even if I feel like I'm being stripped apart so the whole world can see my flaws.

"—and I brought you a few things, Primrose, would you like to see them?"

"Yes, please." I smile at Effie, and she immediately pulls a bag out of nowhere. Haymitch clucks his tongue.

"Women," he mutters, and I let out a small giggle.

"I got you a few gowns from the Capitol—tailor made!—just for you." She holds up three: one that shimmers gold, one that is a deep blue with sea-green, swirling designs, and one that is a deep red, cut along the sides and in the back. I finger them carefully, they are so beautiful.

"Wow, thank you, Effie," I say. "These are gorgeous."

She dismisses this statement with a wave of her hand. "No trouble at all." She smiles, her blue-tinted, glittery lips sparkling. "I also got a nice new swimsuit for you, since summer is approaching quickly."

"For god's sake, Trinket, we're in the middle of a war and you think she's going to be on the poolside all summer?" Haymitch says, putting his head in his hands.

"I was simply thinking ahead, Abernathy," she snaps, but gives a smile nonetheless. "Here it is." I take it. It's a bright shade of orange, and I really like it. "Complete with sunglasses."

I smile and prop them up on my head. "Thanks again."

"And also some new shoes." Handing me three pairs of shoes, she smiles. "This was my favorite part." One is a black pair of heels, one is a white pair of flats, and one is a cute sky-blue pair of sneakers.

"Effie, you're a fashion genius," I say.

"Why, thank you." Patting down her blue wig, she reaches inside her bag yet again.

"How much shopping did you do?" Haymitch asks, horrified.

"Shut up, you idiot," Effie snaps. "I did the reasonable amount." In her hands she holds a glimmering bracelet. "This is sterling silver with a few inset diamonds."

"Oh my god, Effie, it's beautiful," I say, sliding it onto my wrist.

"And for the crowning jewel of my collection—_this._"

She holds out a necklace. Around the golden chain is an amethyst, a rich purple, glittering. I finger it carefully, running my thumb across its shimmering surface. "It's breathtaking," I say softly. I throw my arms around Effie. Her wig shifts, but she doesn't bother to fix it, hugging me back tightly.

"I'm glad you like it." She smiles.

"Your taste is amazing; all of this stuff is exactly what I would pick out for myself." I secure the amethyst around my neck where it hangs just below my throat, glistening. It makes me feel like a princess, with her expensive jewelry and hot new dresses and shoes. "Thank you."

"I also got the little princess something," Haymitch says with a lopsided grin. "Presenting—abracadabra!" He pulls out a dirty, frayed hat with tiny fish designs dancing around the edges. "It was mine when I was a little kid. I thought you might like it, darling."

I feel a lump rise up in my throat.

Words can't express how grateful I am for them.

I hug them both as tightly as I can and pull the hat onto my head. "It's beautiful."

"It's old, but it'll do. Some of us don't have the pleasure to stroll into a shop looking like an oil painting in the Capitol and buy a bunch of diamonds."

"Amethysts, you toadstool."

"Toadstool? Are you serious—?"

I stop them right there. "Thanks. So much. For everything." I take the bag from Effie as she holds it out and secure it on my arm. "D'you guys want to go back into the Snowglobe and monitor Melissa?"

Effie nods. "But first, may I talk to you two?" Haymitch and I nod. "Do you find it odd that the Capitol hasn't tried to capture us in any way, besides the Melissa incident? Why not just swoop out of the sky and pluck us from the ground?"

"Because of the Districts," I say quietly. "They're afraid they'll rally and get everyone on their side."

Haymitch nods. "Yeah, now we're not, as Rosie stated, 'a band of people against the world.'"

I prop myself up on my elbows and rest my head in my chin.

"We can win."

Elly's POV

"_Primrose?" I gasp._

_ She smiles. "The one and only. You'd think you'd remember me."_

_ I give a shaky laugh in disbelief. "I can't believe—I was—and they can't see you?" I finish, pointing at Cassia and Katniss, who stand a little ways away, talking animatedly._

_ "Nope. I'm in your head." She reaches out and touches my forehead. I feel a cool sensation, but no physical touch. _

_ "Why are you appearing to us?"_

_ "I'm not. I'm your imagination." She sighs._

_ She's wearing a galaxy on herself. _

_ Stars wrap around her body and hair, giving the impression that she's glowing. They hug her legs, twinkling. Her hair is tied back in a messy ponytail, the shimmers gluing themselves to it. She smiles, and her whole face looks golden. "Do you like it?"_

_ "Very much so," I stammer. They're real stars. _

_ "Here." She touches me again, and I feel the same sensation, only warm. "I've always thought of you as a rose. Thorny, prickly, touchy."_

_ "Wow, thanks."_

_ She laughs a hanging, sweet noise. "But you're also beautiful, delicate…a symbol for love."_

_ I blush. "Wow, thanks."_

_ She giggles again. "So."_

_ I look down to see that I've become a human rosebush._

_ The flowers are so thick on my body. Their vines snake around my legs, the thorns scraping them, but I feel no pain whatsoever. My feet are covered in petals, my hair done up and wreathed in them. I smile and gasp and try to say thank you at the same time. _

_ Primrose laughs and pulls a lock of hair out of my updo. It tickles my cheek. "You're very welcome."_

_ "You're my best friend," I say suddenly, wanting her to know. It feels like she's about to disappear. "I love you."_

_ "Oh, know that I love you too, Elly, and that I always will." She pulls a star from her dress and it transforms into a flower, still as blazing and bright as it was when it was a star. "Take this." She laces her fingers through my hand. I feel them. I feel her hand. "You're my star. You're my very best friend. I've got to go, but I'll be back. Just call." _

_ She vanishes, leaving behind a sizzling sound, like stars fizzling out._

_The very next day_

Prim's POV

I see Ian.

"IAN! IAN! IAN!" I scream, full of an uncontrollable excitement.

"PRIMROSE!" he yells, scooping me into his arms. He wears a hungry look, searching my face. His eyes are brilliant, but they're not green. They're pure white, his pupil vivid against the iris. "Look at you."

"Ian. Ian, what's wrong?" I ask worriedly, curling my fingers into the fabric of his shirt.

"Look at you." His mouth opens, and fangs sprout. I scream.

"You're not Ian!" I shriek, beating my fists against him, trying to throw him backward.

"I am," he says calmly. He takes a knife from his pocket and holds it out to me. I shake my head.

"No, leave me alone; what did you _do to him_—?"

"I'm me. Just a different me." He puts the knife at my feet. "Kill me. I have become a demon. I have no desire to live. Kill me."

My face feels numb. "Nonono," I whisper, my voice shaking severely. "Nonono."

"You've got to. The world is in danger, because of me." His nails become claws, his tongue forked. "Kill me, Primrose Everdeen."

"No!" I scream. "NO!"

His body becomes covered in strange markings, inky black against his smooth skin. He brings me close and kisses me, his forked tongue exploring my mouth. It feels so…wrong…but it's familiar…

He sprouts terrible, crimson wings, scattering blood everywhere. He gives a cry of pain, wrenching a feather from his back. It becomes a weapon, a terrible, terrible, terrible weapon….

"You had your chance!" he growls, trembling all over.

Everything is fire.

I wake up, gasping for air and sweaty. T rolls over next to me, smiling innocently. I scream again, holding the covers up to my neck and pulling them off the bed as I stand near a wall, clad only in boy shorts and a tight black tank top. "GET OUT OH MY GOD GET OUT OF MY BED."

"Morning, darling," he says sweetly, pressing his palms to the wall behind me, locking me in place. He kisses me roughly, his lips cracked. I struggle against the kiss, but he plucks at my shirt and shorts, laughing. "You can't do anything."

I force my elbow out of his embrace and throw it against his cheek. He's flung the other way and I bolt out of my room.

Haymitch and Effie and my mother have prepared my favorite breakfast: strawberry shortcakes. I attempt to smile at them, but it may look merely like a grimace.

The memory of Ian tugs at my sleeve, painfully targeting my heart.

T…

I never knew he'd go so far, so quickly. He manipulated me, caused me to trust him, even hesitantly. I started picking up on things, but even so I still jumped off a cliff expecting me to catch me.

T walks down the stairs. "Thank you, Ms. Everdeen, I found my jacket no problem." He smiles at my mother. I wince. "And may I request a meeting with your daughter tonight, at around nine or so?"

Cold dread splashes around inside of me. "Mom, I'm busy…Ian's memorial…" The words fly out of my mouth. My mother goes ashen.

"I'm sorry, Thomas, she'll have to decline…I had no idea it was tonight, dear…Yes, you can't go."

T's face tightens. "I'll be there," he says roughly. "You won't have to suffer alone, if you get my gist."

I get it.

I get it perfectly.

So I guess I'm planning a memorial for Ian. Katniss's will be the next day, Cassia's the next, and Elly after that. Four days of mourning that I brought upon myself—although the fallen still deserve it. Actually, it's probably a good thing that T clambered into my bed this morning. Otherwise we probably wouldn't have given them a funeral.

It's not like I've lost hope. I just feel like their deaths shouldn't go completely dishonored.

T smiles at me, a bruise already darkening on his cheek. "Come for a walk with me once you're done with breakfast."

I nod once, tightly, panic setting in.

I eat my breakfast as slowly as I can, talking with Effie animatedly and making sure to carry on the most boring conversations. Then I dress, taking a good twenty minutes, and style my hair, taking another ten. Then I brush my teeth, wash my face, etc. All in all, I delay things by a good hour and a half.

And then I walk outside.

T sits on the steps.

"Hey," he says, smiling brightly and leaning forward to kiss me.

I hold up two hands. "No," I say coldly. "I'll never love you. Ever."

"Oh, you don't mean that," he says, and catches my face in his hands, kissing me hard and wrong.

"STOP!" I scream. "Ian!"

"Ian's not here, beautiful; now let's go upstairs in your room and h—"

I kick him once, twice, and then watch as he skids down the steps.

"No," I say again, fire in my voice this time. "Don't come near me every again, you two-faced insect. I wouldn't be surprised if you suck blood for fun. Go."

He shakes his head, his blond locks dirty. "No. I need you. You don't understand, I _need _you like you need Ian, please—"

"You were in my bed! I know what you were trying to do! Just leave me alone!" I cover my face with my hands. In the weeks that Ian's been dead, already one guy has tried to take me over. I'm vulnerable without him, I need him so badly.

I can't stand it any longer.


	31. Important Message

p class="MsoNormal"strongHey guys! Listen, I think I'm going to just end the story in the next chapter. I feel like it's gotten really long, almost too long. I'm going to end it next chapter. We had a great run. The chapter might not be up for another week or so, but I leave on a week-long vacation and then school starts. I'm hoping to start another fanfiction soon! Bye guys. You're the greatest./strong/p 


	32. Chapter 31

_Don't Look Back—Chapter 31_

**A/N: HI EVERYONE THIS IS A REALLY AWESOME CHAPTER OKAY READ PLZ AND 5SOS FOR LIFE OKAY? OKAY. ENJOY CH. 31 OKAY!**

Chapter 31—REVIVED

Prim's POV

I find myself standing outside, all alone, a strong mid-spring storm moving in. T left awhile ago, cheeks red, mumbling.

The clouds are dark and black and it smells like rain. I love the smell of rain. I love the sound of rain. I love the feel of rain. I really love rain.

So as the first fat drops start to fall, I lift my chin and let them hit my skin. It's cool but not cold. Thunder rumbles in the distance, a lightning flash searing my eyes.

Tears fall like the rain, landing on my hands and stomach and legs. The salty liquid mixes with the clear, clean liquid. I taste them. Apparently I like the taste of rain too.

I stand there, head high, crying. Crying because of a boy, a boy that changed my life and world.

he's my everything.

I tread back inside, clothing wet and hair dripping. "I'm back, Mom," I call. She frowns at the sogginess.

"What ever were you doing?" she asks, surveying me.

"Um, walking, sorry. I'll go clean up."

"Good. A young woman requested a meeting with you. Said her name was Shirley. So clean up quickly, she's in the sitting room."

Shirley. I remember Shirley. The nice store attendant at Cara's. "Oh. Okay." I wipe my hands on my jeans, much to my mother's dismay. "Mom. I'm going to change anyway."

"Oh, alright, just go, Prim."

My blood feels electrified. Katniss used to call me Prim.

"Okay."

I trudge up to my room and change quickly, into a hideous orange shirt and new jeans. It looks ridiculous on me, with my dripping wet hair and socks. I don't care, really. Not anymore.

"Hi, Shirley," I say as I walk down to the sitting room, sloshing as I go.

"Oh, _Primrose!_" she moans, throwing her arms around my neck. "I's so sorry, girlie…you's been through so much…" Tears stream down her pretty face, her ringlets wild and untamed. "I came as quick as I could, after I heared the news…they've been tryin' to keep it quiet, but they ain't succeeding, y'see, 'cuz a man with glasses an' a goatee told us all 'bout what happened, how Primrose Everdeen's boyfrand, sister, and frands had been killed by…by you…and he told us all 'bout how you'd been haighjacked and you's had to murder them, and I came over straight-way, 'cuz I thought you's might like some comfortin'."

I hug her tightly. "Thank you."

"I's so sorry, Primrose," she says thickly, wiping at her eyes.

"Me too," I say quietly.

"So…"

Melissa bursts through the door.

"The microchip is ready."

_Later_

"Okay. So you inserted it into the bodies?" I ask, my voice very high.

"Yes. As soon as I press this button they should be revived."

My heart is racing, beating at three million times three million miles an hour. If this works, and Ian and Katniss and Cassia and Elly won't be dead anymore. They'll just have been sleeping.

"Three…"

"Two…"

"One!" I scream, and Melissa presses the button.

Ian, Cassia, Katniss, and Elly's POV

_E: "What the—?"_

_C: "I'M SPARKLING!"_

_I: "Primrose! What does this mean?"_

_C: "I'M A FAIRY PRIIIIIIIINCESS!"_

_K: "She's not coming. I know what's happening."_

_I, C, E: "WHAT?"_

_K: "We're being pulled back to Panem. Our souls are returning to our bodies."_

_I: "So we're going to see Primrose again?!1!"_

_C, E: "YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAS!"_

_I: [silence]_

_K: "Ian…?"_

_I: [tears]_

_K: "Oh, Ian…"_

_I: "PRIMROSE!"_

Prim's POV

Katniss is the first to rise. Tears well up in my eyes as she opens her eyes dazedly, focuses on me, and leaps from her fetal position to hug me so tightly that I nearly throw up, but that's okay I don't care because I love her.

"Katniss…Katniss…" My sobs are muffled in her shoulder. She smoothes my hair. My mother bursts into noisy cries and dashes over to embrace my sister.

The next is Elly. "ELLY!" I scream, and she screams back my name and we hug so tightly and I kiss her cheek and oh my god, my best friend is back.

Cassia sits up and sings a little tune that goes "HIHIHI!" I feel my heart skip as she stands up and lifts me into the air. "I missed my sister," she whispers, and I give a breathy, tear-jerked laugh and bury my head in her neck. She spins me around and around and sets me down on the ground, ruffling my hair. Katniss and Elly and her all have tears in their eyes.

And last.

Ian.

He sits up instantly, his eyes wild.

I walk slowly, dizzily, to him.

He blinks.

"P-Primrose…?"

I throw myself at him, knocking him back into a lying position, and kiss him.

The kiss is full of tears, and full of raspy breaths. But it's also warm, and familiar, and so, so wonderful. Ian's arms wrap around me so protectively I feel invincible. I'm not vulnerable anymore. I'm completely a warrior, back in fighting position again. His hands are in my hair, slipping and catching on its tangles, his lips gentle but strong on mine.

I pull away. "I-Ian, oh my g-g-god, y-you're aliv-v-ve…"

He's shaking just as much as I am. He's so warm, and I curl up against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"I can't believe it-t either…I thought you or I w-would…I thought I w-wouldn't…"

I wrap my arms around him and hug him tightly, quelling my shaking. "C'mon, we've gotta go…"

Melissa wipes away her own tears. I clear my throat. "Melissa…if you'd like to…erm…join our squad…then you're welcome to."

I owe her so much, so very much, and I feel like this is a way to repay her. She gasps and begins stuttering her thanks, and finally, awkwardly, flings her arms around me. I grip her back, but softly, so she realizes she needs to let go so I can cling to Ian.

"Thank you ever so much, thank you," she breathes, and I smile, my fingers lacing with Ian's. Everything still feels like a dream. A horrifying thought strikes me like a lightning bolt. What if I am dreaming? What if none of this is real, what if Ian's still dead, what if Melissa's still working on the chip, and what if it doesn't work? I start to tremble again, tears flooding my eyes. Ian instantly notices.

"What's wrong? Are you okay? Is it me?" he asks.

Slowly, I shake my head. "What if this isn't r-real?" I whisper, ashamed of my fear. Ian's face pales instantly.

"What if it's not?"

"Then…"

Ian shakes his head. "Then I have to give you the best dream ever."

He kisses me again, gently at first, then hungrily, and I swear I come apart, melting right in front of him. He keeps a firm hold on my jawline, locking my head in place, while I stand, nearly paralyzed. His hand is warm on my waist, my back. Finally I feel my arms and legs again, and I curl my fingers in his hair, bringing his face closer.

And when we collide, I know that it's no dream.

Because no dreams can compare to the full realization that something as amazing as this is reality.

I love him so very much.

Once we finally surface for air, Katniss gives a low whistle. "I can't tell you how lovely that was."

Cassia begins to applaud. Then she does something very bizarre.

She kisses Elly just like Ian kissed me.

They lock, moving and interacting and Elly is much shorter than Cassia and Cassia's hair hangs straight down her back. Elly pulls away with a fearful look on her face, the adrenaline fading. I feel shock buzz through me.

"Why didn't anyone tell me?" I demand.

Elly looks like this is exactly what she expected. She puts a shaking hand up to her eyes. I've never seen her this afraid.

"I-I'm sorry, Primrose, I-I should've t-told y-you—"

"Yeah!" I say, anger coursing through me. "You should've! You can trust me! You can ask!"

"Are…you m-mad?"

"Yeah! You borrowed my favorite shoes and got them all scuffed up when you died!" My face breaks into a shining smile. Elly collapses into nervous giggles and Cassia's doubled over in laughter.

"You little bug!" Cassia says affectionately to me, ruffling my hair again. "I taught you well!"

I nod and squeeze them both tightly. Katniss wraps her arms around us three and lastly, Ian squishes in beside me. We all stand, smiling, my eyes watery, and enjoy the warmth.

And I have my family back.

Ian's POV

Primrose hasn't let go of me since I sat up and saw her, tears running down her face, Cassia, Elly, and Katniss behind her. I saw a girl whose face was full of hope and love. I saw a girl who was innocent turned fighter.

Mostly, I saw a girl who is my world.

She knocked me straight over and her lips pressed to mine, and I breathed her in and out, because she's my air, and I drank her in, because she's my water, and I warmed myself because she's my fire, and I watched her blossom because she's my flower. She's my life. I kept her close because she's like smoke, so hard to keep captivated, but also because once she comes alive she's like a burning supernova, a star shining so brightly in the night.

And then she asked me if she was dreaming.

I honestly didn't know if I was dreaming, or if she was dreaming, and that scared me. That I could lose her all over again. But no. It's not a dream. I'd know.

Her small fingers are laced in mine, and her head rests on my shoulder. Her lips brush my cheek. I glance down at her. She smiles. Her hair smells like vanilla. She's also trembling slightly.

"Anything wrong?" I whisper, and she closes her eyes.

"No," she whispers back. "I'm just…you're back…I thought I lost you…"

The way Experiment-Primrose wound herself around me like a snake, overcoming me by knowing my weaknesses, is kind of scary. The Capitol knows when we're strong and when we're brittle, and they know how to get us those ways. Primrose is full of a new fire, as am I. But they still know how to get to us, how to get inside of us and drive us inside out.

Primrose leans into me, and her small body curls up against me. Her eyelids close and her lashes flutter, and she takes soft, sleepy breaths. I kiss her forehead. She smiles tiredly and falls asleep, her hair fanned out on my back, my arms around her.

We arrive back at Victor's Village. I carry Primrose up to her room. She squirms in my arms, her brows furrowed. I can't make sense of any muttering. She's having a nightmare. I grip her more tightly and shake her arm slightly. Her eyes fly open, her face sweaty. "S-Sorry," she says, calming her breaths. "N-Nightmare."

I set her down on her feet. She nearly falls. I catch her again. "You okay?"

She shakes her head, swallowing hard. "I'll tell you once we're inside," she whispers, panicked.

I nod. She pulls me by the wrist, none too gently, into her house and up to her room while Katniss, Cassia, and Elly wave and step inside quickly. The cameras have once again been disabled by Beetee, who has been our savior many times. He'll have to work to keep them off, though, because they can't know that Katniss, Cassia, Elly and I are alive again.

Melissa shakes her head when Katniss voices my same thought, though. "They know a revolution is taking place. They know that you captured me. They realize all of this, and I expect a strike any day now."

Katniss nods. "I'll tell Beetee to rest, the poor man. Thank god we got him on our team. If we didn't, it'd be pure hell trying to conceal everything."

Melissa simply lifts her chin. "Is there…somewhere I could sleep?"

Primrose nods. "There's a guest bedroom. Cassia, Elly, you can sleep in the living room. Katniss, where's Peeta?"

Katniss looks stricken. "PEETA!" she screams, and tears out of the house over to his. I watch her through the window. Peeta, dressed in dirty clothing and holding a bottle of something, drops its contents onto the ground and they explode, kissing fiercely and Peeta's carrying her back over here, their lips still touching, and he's through the door, both of them still as strong as ever.

Katniss is mumbling his name, and vice versa, and when they finally cool, Katniss wraps his arms around her and he holds her protectively.

"Peeta, were you drinking?" Primrose asks gently.

Peeta shakes his head. "I bought some for Haymitch. He's been…well…hungover. Badly hungover. I thought it'd numb him." Katniss is visibly shaking and crying.

"I thought I'd never see you again," Peeta says to her, and she hauls him up to her bedroom.

Primrose gives me a wry smile as I raise my eyebrows.

"C'mon, up to my room," she announces. I wince as Elly and Cassia grin to each other.

She stops at the base of the steps. "Primrose?"

She raises her arms like a little child. "Up."

I laugh and pick her up. She curls into my arms, her hands around my neck. She kisses my neck several times, making me almost fall down the stairs. I open the door with one hand, keeping the other securing her body. She smiles at me. I go to set her down on her bed.

The trouble is, someone's already there.

Prim's POV

"T!" I say coldly. _Of course_ he'd ruin this perfect day.

"Afternoon, darling," he says, coming over to kiss me. I clamber out of Ian's arms and shove him backward roughly.

"_No!_" I screech.

Ian stands, his hands curled into fists. "T."

"Ian," T says lazily, stretching out across my bed, dressed in what's obviously supposed to be a seductive v-neck and black skinny jeans. "Welcome back."

"Leave my girlfriend alone, T," Ian says through gritted teeth.

"But I'm _bored_ and need to _play,_" T says, sighing like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"You've changed, you—" Ian wrenches me backward, for I've tried to throw myself at him. "Cassia's death changed you. D'you even _love_ her?"

T's expression goes sour. "Don't talk about my sister."

"YOU LET HER GO OUT AND KILL HERSELF!" I scream. "ALONE! YEAH, SHE SACRIFIED HERSELF FOR ME, BUT YOU COULD'VE AT LEAST GONE OUT AND HELPED HER!"

T advances forward and socks me, right in the cheek. Little stars pop before my eyes.

Ian shoves T to the ground and pins him there, punching and punching. I lie on the ground, trying to make the room stop spinning. T groans, but he's a fricking faker and throws Ian to the ground. They wrestle with each other, and then the real fight starts. I close my eyes.

**A/N: Alright, I'm gonna try to get to Chapter 35 at least. This one's kinda short but I needed to upload something because the next chapter probably won't go up for another three weeks, since I'll be in South Carolina for two weeks and then school starts. Thanks for understanding, guys, I love you all xx**


	33. Epilogue Part 1

_Don't Look Back—Epilogue Part 1_

**A/N: Hey guys! So sorry this was so late, I was on vacation and school started and blargh. **

***WE WILL MAKE IT TO 35 CHAPTERS!***

**There's just gonna be a three-part epilogue ;)**

**Enjoy Ch. 32!**

Epilogue Part 1

Prim's POV

I stand in my house in Victor's Village, watching the TV. It's impossible. It can't be possible.

_President Snow is dead?_

I feel my heart speed up as I dial Ian's number. "Ian," I say, still staring at the television.

"Hey, Primrose! Happy early birthday, by the way, it's so great that you'll finally be twenty-two—"

"Turn on the news," I say shakily.

He cuts off abruptly. "Is everything okay? Is it Katniss? Peeta?"

"No, nonono just put on the news."

I hear him walk to his sitting room and then the soft mumbling of voices. Suddenly I hear a loud _plunk _and then—

"PRIMROSE!" he screams, and then suddenly he's at my front door, scooping me into his arms and spinning me around. "HE'S DEAD!"

"How?" I ask. Ian sets me down on the couch and we huddle together, listening to the Capitol newslady.

_"Several reports inform us that a group of assassins marched into the Capitol and slaughtered half of their reinforcements before proceeding to kill President Snow. Many Districts and the Capitol itself have begun rejoicing in the streets after President Snow's death, due to the newer, stricter rules he enforced, the best example being the sacrifice of one child."_

Ian pushes me into the couch and kisses me, hard. I pull him closer, on top of me, and everything is completely perfect in that moment. His lips are so warm, his touch so gentle, infuriating me. I pull him closer, closer, my hands underneath his shirt, scurrying over his bare skin.

The door bangs open and we topple off of the couch to Katniss's hysterical laughter. "Idiots," she says playfully, and I walk over and hug her tightly. "Your mission, it worked!" I shriek, burying my face in her shoulder. Katniss grins.

"Yeah. It worked so well. I gave the soldiers directions from the hovercraft with Haymitch and Peeta while Shirley—she's so kick-ass, holy god—lead them into battle. And we rocked their world! We did it! We goddamn did it! We saved Panem!"

"You're so nonchalant about this," Ian says, his arms around me.

Katniss smiles at him, very widely. "Did you do it?"

"No. Not yet. I'm waiting."

I'm hardly even listening, I'm so happy about what happened. Ian twirls me around while Katniss begins prepping some food for us. "You two are so perfect together," she says, and I smile up at Ian as he kisses my forehead.

"Maybe now things will work better," he whispers.

"For us," I murmur, my lips brushing his ear. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Katniss coughs, her eyes flashing.

"Do it now, dummy, I already called Peeta and Haymitch and them to come. Do it."

I look curiously from Katniss to Ian as the whole gang enters the room: Peeta, his fingers finding Katniss's; Haymitch, arm draped across Effie; Cassia, walking with new prosthetics, Elly kissing her cheek; Shirley, her eyes bright and her ringlets tight; and Mom, her smile as luminous as the sun. Everyone is gathered around us two.

Ian's cheeks are bright red. "I guess—I guess now is the time, um…god, I wasn't expecting such a party or such sudden timing…um…" He pulls out a small velvet box and suddenly I know _nothing_ but him.

"Prim, would you marry me?"

Before I know it, our bodies slam together and we're kissing, kissing, and I'm murmuring "yes, yes" against his lips and he's laughing and and and I am on cloud nine and nothing, nothing can break this and Snow is dead and Ian's marrying me and I love everything and everyone and—

The room erupts into applause. Cameramen are everywhere, filming the pair dubbed "Panem's Heroes," everlasting at last. My head is spinning as I bury my face in Ian's shirt. He smells like sweet sweat and warm summer winds that make you want to jump off a building and just feel them and let them carry you on their wings until you're somewhere you can't get back from.

When I pull away from Ian to gaze at the room, a question bubbles up inside of me.

"How long did you all know?" Tears are running down my face, the biggest, brightest grin across my face.

"About three weeks. Ian surprised us with the ring. Effie was happier than you were," Elly says, and we all laugh. Effie's makeup is streaking, but she's not paying any attention to it. She flings herself at me and I embrace her tightly.

"Primrose," she sobs, and I take her by the shoulders.

"Will you plan the wedding?"

Effie nods vigorously, dabbing her eyes and finally retreating to the bathroom to scrub the makeup off. She looks so natural, so beautiful without any makeup, albeit older. I point to Katniss. "Maid of Honor." I point to Elly, Cassia, and Shirley. "Bridesmaids."

Cassia grins and flicks her hair back while Shirley and Elly begin jumping around, screaming. Katniss embraces me and kisses my forehead. "Mom, would you help Effie?" My mother nods, her eyes watery but her smile huge. "Haymitch…would you like to lead me down the aisle?"

"Good god girl, you work quickly," he laughs, but his eyes are just as teary as Mom's. "Of course I will, Panem's darling."

"Peeta, how'd you like to be my best man?" Ian asks, his arms tight around me.

Peeta gasps and gives a yell of delight. Ian laughs. I stare up at him.

"This wedding is going to be legendary."

Ian kisses me.


	34. Epilogue Part 2

_Don't Look Back—Epilogue Part 2_

**A/N: Epilogue Part II! I've started school but I'm on Labor Day Break. Enjoy your holiday (or I hope you enjoyed it) and also enjoy the second part of my epilogue!**

Epilogue Part 2—The Wedding

Ian's POV

I stand at the end of the aisle, just three months after I proposed. Everything came together so quickly. Effie's a miracle worker, the way she can build everything into a perfect contraption.

My tux is a deep red, due to Effie. She and a few other Capitol stylists went completely berserk, sketching and designing and styling and planning and erasing and repeat.

All I can think about is Primrose.

I'm the luckiest guy in the world, having her all to myself. The way she laughs, her big, bright smile, the way her eyes look, her hair color, her sense of protection, her sense of comfort, the way she makes me feel when I'm around her. And I get to have that for the rest of my life.

The doors swing open.

Primrose steps in, Haymitch leading her down the aisle.

She's smiling at me, the kind of smirk-smile she smiles when she's laughing at something stupid I did. _Nervous?_ she mouths, and I grin back at her.

Her dress is a beautiful blood-colored crimson, embroidered with darker swirls. The skirt is full and wavy, and when she's up next to me, I see her face is clear of makeup.

Haymitch stands beside me and Peeta, and he wipes a tear from his eye.

To be honest, I don't listen much. The whole thing is just surreal. She's here; she's in front of me.

"Do you, Ian Reseda, take Primrose Everdeen to be your wife?"

"What?" I stutter, snapping out of my reverie.

The audience laughs. Primrose smiles, her real, goofy smile. "He does. I do too. Let me kiss him already."

Everyone laughs again. "Alright, alright…you may kiss the groom."

Primrose throws herself into my arms and we're kissing. It's brief, but it's the most wonderful kiss I've ever felt.

Her face is a ray of sunshine when we break apart, her hand lying on my chest, mine on her back, protectively, as the audience cheers.

I've never felt more alive.

_Later that night_

"That party was fricking fantastic," Primrose says, her dress replaced by a different, lighter, flouncier one that exposes the back of her thighs. I feel my cheeks redden and I glance away. She catches my eye and smirks.

"It was," I say, walking over to help her clean up the streamers. "Effie plans fantastically."

"I know!" she says enthusiastically. She nuzzles her head against my shoulder. "Thank you."

"For the wedding? I mean, you had to see it coming, didn't you?"

Prim laughs and kisses my nose. "No. For being an idiot."

"Hey, I'm not an idiot—"

"You're _my _idiot," she says affectionately. "And I love you."

"I love you too, Primrose."

She laughs, a real tip-your-head-back-and-laugh sort of laugh. She steps away from me, smiling. "Come here."

"Why?"

"Because…" Her smile is too inviting to risk ignoring. "Just come here, doofus."

"Okay." She slinks farther away when I move closer. "What?"

"Stand back, I changed my mind. Go outside. We'll do it outside." My cheeks flush.

"Alright."

We walk outside, the grass rippling in the breeze. My heart is pumping. "Relax," she says, and I understand everything by her tone. "It's not that. It's something fun. Really fun. Something I've always wanted to do."

The sun is setting, the sky a brilliant, brilliant orange. Primrose's hair looks like amber in the light, her eyes like bright blue sapphires. She looks like an angel, her dress the same color as ink. She looks like…she used to. The Image-Primrose. The girl I saw when I was dead. But she's alive. I'm alive. We're both alive.

"Stand back. Over there." I walk back about twenty feet. Primrose removes her shoes and pulls the ponytail out of her hair. And she runs.

She runs toward me, laughing like she's a little kid, her hair flying wildly behind her. I laugh too, and hold out my arms. She leaps directly into them and I lift her into the air, and she looks down at me like I'm the only thing she's ever wanted, and my heart swells because _this is it._

_ This is how good life can get._

**A/N: Okay, the last part of the epilogue is next :D! I love each and every one of you so much. I promise you I'll have more fanfictions going up. Any requests? I might try something a little different, maybe Divergent, maybe another Hunger Games, I really don't know! I also have another story up on Wattpad about THG. It's called "The Avox" and my username is LuckyJo2. I really hope you enjoyed this chapter, it was the most fun to write...much love!**


	35. The Finale

_Don't Look Back—The Finale (or, Epilogue Part III)_

**A/N: Oh my gosh, guys.**

** We did it.**

** We made it.**

** This story—it's been amazing. Your support has kept it alive. I love each and every one of you. **

** I mean, I was writing Panem's Darling, right? I thought it'd be a little fanfiction with ten or so chapters and five people who really like it.**

** I got at least thirty of you asking me for a sequel, and then constant, constant support. Do you know how much that means to me? It means more than I ever thought it would.**

** Watching Prim and Ian grow up and fall in love with each other has been amazing. I love writing those two POV's, because they're both so absorbed with each other and reading what goes through their brains is really quite fantastic. **

** The last book changed a lot. I initially was going to have them murder Snow, but then Prim got hijacked (oh, a little backstory about that: that wasn't going to happen AT ALL. It was so spur-of-the-moment. I was like, "I need another big event." And then Elly and Prim were walking along a dark road at night and it came to me: a kidnapper. But then I omitted Elly getting kidnapped, because how would they signal the others? What a cliché, sending codes and letters to get help. No, Elly was going to run off and find the others and warn them). So I just had President Snow die. I don't think anyone was expecting it, and plus I thought it'd be a nice touch for the rest of the country to see how evil he really was. They finally "woke up".**

** And then the epilogue came. I initially thought of just showing an epilogue not unlike the one in Mockingjay, but I realized I wanted more. So I came up with three key parts of Prian's future: a proposal, a wedding, and now, children and a family. **

** This might seem like too happy an ending, but after death and destruction and heartbreak, don't you think they deserve it?**

** Please, please, please, enjoy the finale of Don't Look Back.**

The Finale—Endless

Prim's POV

I guess I should've guessed that it'd happen eventually.

Two years ago, she was born. Her smile is so adorable, her teeth almost fully developed. Her eyes are a spectacular green—something I'm so happy she got. She's a little, feminine Ian. And he's so incredibly fond of her. It's lovely.

This was hardly six months after the wedding. Using the old rule in Twelve—"grow up fast or don't grow up at all"—we really wanted a kid. I mean really. He was practically begging.

Finally, I stopped being afraid and I said okay.

We're sitting outside, on a grassy hill, Ian's arms around me. She's running around like mad in the sunset, using her delicate little hands to gather dandelions. The whole gang is here: Elly and Cassia, who've decided they're going to adopt a child; Effie and Haymitch, who are currently arguing over some aspect of their new house; Katniss and Peeta, their two kids playing with her; Shirley, who's chatting with Cass and Elly; and Mom, cooking something outside on a grill.

Fireworks have burst through the sky tonight, and all across Panem people are celebrating "The Miracle Couple". Us. Ian and I.

It's our little girl's birthday.

"Look at her go," Ian laughs.

I lean up and kiss him tenderly.

It's just like it's always been: explosions of energy, like wind and water colliding; our lips nearly numb from the pressure. When I pull away, smiling serenely, we watch our daughter toddle around, giggling at butterflies and tumbling after Katniss's son.

The thing about our daughter is that her hair is as tumbled red and gold as possible, like a sunset streaking across the sky, dancing flames. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

"Come here!" I call out to her, and she turns around, giggling. She tumbles into my lap, squealing and shrieking as she goes. "Oh, you little weirdo," I coo, and she gives me a "Ha, ma!" in response. I run my fingers through her hair, letting them slip through the gentle curls.

"Win! Win!" she says.

"That's right, that's your name!" Ian says affectionately, tapping her nose once. She bubbles with laughter and flounces away, singing a song to Katniss's son.

That's right, that's her name.

Ian leans in to kiss me.

That's her name.

_Quinn._

**A/N: That's it, that's the end, that's a wrap. This story was absolutely incredible thanks to each and every one of you who supported me—or criticized me. Anyone who read it. Anyone who glanced over the title and decided to click on it. Anyone who was involved in the slightest.**

** I do plan on writing more fanfictions, presumably a Harry Potter. I'd love to get some requests, however. I also do have a Wattpad account, LuckyJo2, where I'm currently writing **_**The Avox—**_**eerily similar and chock-full of references to DLB—and **_**Treehouse,**_** an original murder mystery. But I'll be taking a small break from fanfiction to think up ideas. **

** I think I'll leave you with a favorite quote of mine from this story—what it was all based on.**

** Y'know, sometimes you just gotta run, and don't look back. Just gotta run till there's nowhere left to run to. Don't ever look back. Don't look back."**

** Don't look back.**


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